The Honorable Alfred Jones
by dozefallsdownthestairs
Summary: Starry-eyed law student Alfred Jones lands a summer position at a firm, assisting the highest paid defense attorney this side of the Atlantic, Arthur Kirkland. Alfred believes he's got it made, but there's more to Kirkland's jury-charming smile than he first assumed. USUK
1. Chapter 1

**So here we are embarking on another adventure...**

 **Facts: Alfred is a law student hired by prestige law firm Thompson Lang as a summer associate. Summer associates assist real lawyers with their jobs. Alfred is assigned to prominent defense attorney Arthur Kirkland and is determined to learn the tricks of the trade.**

 **Disclaimer: I have small knowledge of the criminal legal process. This story is realistic, but not perfect. I wrote it for fun, haha.**

 **This one shouldn't be too long. (I'm aiming for six chapters.) I would say that it isn't a typical lawyering FF, but judge for yourselves. :)**

 **much love, doze**

* * *

The elevator took off with dizzying speed causing Alfred to grab for the wall. He was still a little shaky in his new Armani and spit-shined loafers. The nervous bubble of sludge that occupied his chest right now was only to be expected. His first day on the job promised to be an adventure.

Once Alfred had navigated his way through the morning commute, he'd been stunned by the sprawling jungle of skyscrapers in the business district of the city. He walked in their shadows, entertaining grand thoughts of the great men who had walked in their shadows before him. Somehow the streets were cleaner here, and the clothes all but sang pretty pennies. Every intersection named after a number or Washington or Jefferson or Madison. No hot dog vendors and no tourist trash. The air weighed on him with the heavy mantle of business propriety.

It took him awhile to find the right building. Out front a waterfall glittered in the sunlight, set in a square of shiny tiles. **Thompson Lang LLP** was written in block type on a large sign.

The reception area had directed him to the elevators and here he was. On his way to the top floor to meet Arthur Kirkland. His temporary badge cut lines in his palm as he gripped it, mentally rehearsing his introduction.

"Good morning, Mr. Kirkland. I've been looking forward to meeting you since I first got the news. I'm Alfred Jones and I'll be your summer associate. Someday I want to be a defense attorney just like you..."

Alfred cringed. That sounded pathetic, didn't it? So far they'd taught him a lot in law school, but formality was something he'd have to learn on his own.

The elevator doors glided open. The 37th floor of the Plaza greeted Alfred in a rush of opulence. Strange paintings, wooden panels, waiting room smell. Alfred took a deep breath and began the walk to the next receptionist. Every floor felt like another game level and he had reached the boss. Looking out, huge floor-to-ceiling windows captured breathtaking views of the city. Every sight reminded him where he was. By the time he reached the glittering young lady at the front his heart was going like a jackhammer.

"A-Alfred Jones, here to see Arthur Kirkland." He held up his temporary badge and she gave him a knowing smile.

"You're the new summer associate? I'll let his secretary know you're here. For now, just take a seat by the window."

Alfred nodded mutely. Five minutes morphed into ten minutes morphed into fifteen. He started to pace, feeling like he might go out of his mind. Maybe this was all a fluke. Maybe he had only _thought_ he'd gotten the job. He wasn't good enough to even scrub toilets at Thompson Lang. There must have been some mistake.

The sound of loafers slapping tile drilled into Alfred's buzzing thoughts. For a long moment, he couldn't determine where the noise was coming from. Until a young man dressed impeccably in pinstripes emerged from a hallway at crisp pace. Alfred recognized him from the pictures. This was Arthur Kirkland, best defense attorney in the state.

"Alfred Jones, I presume?" Arthur held up a hand with a crooked smile. His accent made Alfred feel like he'd fallen into a sophisticated Law and Order episode.

"Yes, that would be me. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir." Arthur's hand felt small in his and warmer than he had expected. It dawned on him that he was nearly six inches taller than the man, and he hadn't even noticed. Arthur carried himself with uncompromising confidence.

"Save sir for seniors. We're not in your classes. Please call me Arthur."

"Yes sir, I mean, Arthur," He smiled nervously.

Arthur waved him forward. "I'll show you your desk. Not afraid of heights, are you?" His crooked smile made another appearance as Alfred shook his head rapidly back and forth. "Only frightened of me then?" Arthur murmured. "Well, I think that puts us in pretty good shape. I admit I'm the scariest force in the office."

When he said it like that, it was hard not to laugh. Arthur was going out of his way to put Alfred at ease.

"I'll have to watch my step then, sir," Alfred said, unable to help teasing gently back. He'd been expecting someone more rigid and professional. All the insider articles said that Arthur Kirkland had a hell of a temper and an attitude to boot. But he wasn't seeing it. "Anything I should absolutely avoid?"

Arthur's eyebrows lifted in surprise at his tone, and Alfred wondered if he had presumed too much.

"Yes," Arthur said, hardly falling out of rhythm at all. "Nothing with sauerkraut for lunch. I hate the smell."

Alfred bit his lip to keep from smiling, but knew that Arthur had seen anyway.

"Well," Arthur stopped at a small office alcove, tucked in the corner with a gorgeous view. "This will be yours. My office is right here." He didn't have to take a single step. Only leaned over to tap a large door to the right. "I have a client meeting this afternoon. You'll be responsible for seeing them in. Let me know beforehand when they arrive so I can prepare. For right now, I want you to mess around with the computer system until you feel comfortable. I've sent you a copy of my resume, and I'd like you to make some changes using our company system. If you have problems, my secretary is down that way and can answer questions. After my client meeting, we'll go into your role here in more depth. Any questions?"

When Alfred shook his head, Arthur gave him a brief smile and held out his hand again. "I'm looking forward to working with you this summer, Alfred."

Alfred beamed. "Me too. I hadn't realized I'd get assigned someone so esteemed as you. I'm excited."

"Are you a good listener?" Arthur asked thoughtfully.

"I try to be."

Arthur pursed his lips. His eyes, green and vibrant, glimmered with amusement. "That's an attorney's answer if I ever heard one. Yes or no?"

Alfred sighed, "Most of the time, yes."

"Then you should have no problems here. Don't disturb me until my client arrives." He gave Alfred a final nod before disappearing into his office.

Grateful for the reprieve, Alfred settled into the squeaky chair of his new desk. To his left, the city sprawled out like a jagged Google Earth map. His nerves had lessened just enough for him to begin work on Arthur's resume. Thank God he was tech intuitive because the design of the company system was crap. The secretary dropped by to introduce herself before taking off. She was only part-time.

"So what do you think so far?" She asked him warmly.

"Everything's very high up," Alfred joked. "Arthur seems nice."

"Does he?" She quirked an eyebrow. Alfred thought this was a strange response, but shrugged it off. Chalk it up to secretaries and their weird secret society. He had already noticed them gathering around the coffeepot like a gang of middleaged gossip columnists. He was staying far out of that one.

"Yeah," Alfred said, "he does."

"Oh, I'm not saying that," She said quickly. But she didn't bother to elaborate what she had been saying. The client had arrived and she made herself scarce.

Alfred didn't mean to think it, but it was the first thought in his mind. The client looked like the picture of a white collar criminal. Chiseled features, perfect hair, and curling sneer to boot. Swallowing, Alfred picked up the phone and dialed Arthur's extension. "Mr. Heighn is here for his appointment."

After that he led Mr. Heighn to the waiting room. Feeling more or less like an overglorified babysitter for criminals. Arthur met them not three minutes later, looking strangely scruffy compared to his stonework client.

"Mr. Heighn," Arthur shook hands formally. "Right this way."

"You have a new secretary, Mr. Kirkland?" Heighn looked down his nose at Alfred, all but exuding superiority.

"Something like that," Arthur said, causing Alfred to bristle in surprise. "Alfred, fetch us the refreshment cart." He walked away without looking back all eyes for Heighn.

Okay, so he'd been demoted from summer associate to secretary at the word of some douchebag? Fabulous. It took him nearly half an hour to scrounge up the refreshments cart, as he had no idea his way around this place. When he finally wheeled it in, Arthur's tight-lipped smile spoke for itself. He was about to be demoted further to who-knew-what.

After finishing Arthur's resume, Alfred found himself with nothing to do. He stared at the ceiling for so long he could see it with his eyes closed. His phone rang and startled him nearly three hours later. Arthur telling him to escort the client to the elevator.

Mr. Heighn grinned unpleasantly the whole time. "I should be seeing you again, Mr. Secretary."

When Alfred made it back to his desk, he was ushered impatiently into Arthur's office. It didn't take a genius to see that Arthur was in a terrible mood.

Despite that, Alfred couldn't help but be impressed by the office. Stunning book shelves stacked with gold-backed law books towered against the wall. Arthur's desk was fashioned from dark cherry wood, stately and immovable. He even had a small sitting area in his office, complete with cushy couch and ornate rug. An ancient sea map of the world was hung over his head. In scrawling script the words _Here There Be Dragons._ A couple of nautical models cluttered a side table, ships in bottles and on poles. A World War 2 era Mustang plane twinkled in the sunlight. Overall, he hadn't expected it to be this cool.

"These are billable hours." Arthur unceremoniously shoved a paper his way, settling with a groan into some kind of ergonomic chair. "The number at the top is the client number and then the matter number. You know how to enter that in the system?"

Alfred bobbed his head.

"You're here to do whatever I need you to do," Arthur continued. "Between everything, I will try and find some time to teach you about the kind of law I do." He paused abruptly. "You do know what kind of law I practice?"

Alfred nodded. "Yes, criminal law. You're a defense attorney."

"Good, you're not a complete idiot."

Alfred didn't know how to respond to this suddenly abrasive conversation. What had happened to the crooked smile of before? Mr. Heighn had eaten it up, surely.

"The most important thing is that you listen to me. If you don't listen, we will have problems."

Alfred nodded again.

"Working here is a privilege," Arthur murmured. "I expect you to remember that. Any questions?"

"No sir." And this time Arthur said nothing about the sir.

0 0 0

"It's the clients mainly," whispered Arthur's secretary as they sipped coffee together in the break room the next day. Arthur had already bitten Alfred's head off twice that morning for not having files ready.

"You must have caught him on a good day when you met. He can be sugarsweet charming if it suits him. He wouldn't have all these clients otherwise."

Alfred shrugged. "This is going on my resume in the future. I don't care if I actually do anything or not. It's on there."

"Oh, he works his associates to the bone," She assured him. "They come in here wet behind the ears and they leave with that hunted look in their eyes. When they complained in the past, he only made it worse."

"I'm not complaining," Alfred said, holding up his hands.

She laughed a little and he smiled. Marlene wouldn't stop comparing him to her son, but other than that she wasn't bad company.

"What puts him in a good mood?" Alfred asked whimsically, giving the last dregs of his coffee a swirl before downing it.

"A no client day." She snorted.

"Okay, what not impossible thing puts him in a good mood?"

She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

Alfred groaned, "Come on. You really have nothing?"

"I don't know, Alfred. If I have to ask him for extra time off, I try to conveniently bring him something from the bakery to butter him up. But I think he's on to me."

"Really?" Alfred cocked his head. He'd been meaning to go in that place.

"Oh and he's always complaining how there's never any tea on the refreshments cart."

"Huh." A plan was beginning to form itself in Alfred's mind. Really, this was an opportunity he couldn't waste. Arthur was the best defense attorney in the state. Maybe it was sheer dumb luck Alfred had got assigned here, but it was practically Willy Wonka's golden ticket. If the guy was in a better mood, maybe he would share some of the coveted secrets of the profession. And Alfred could, you know, actually learn something related to law that didn't involve a refreshments cart.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, Alfred," the secretary continued. "You'll make it through alive-but-barely. Everybody does. Arthur has a reputation in the legal field. Even that will..."

But Alfred was no longer listening. He had twenty minutes left in his lunch break and a bakery to ransack.

0 0 0

Anxiously, Alfred knocked on Arthur's office door. He clutched a brown paper bag behind his back, hands shaking.

"Come in?"

Alfred cracked the door open to find Arthur in the same spot he'd left him in. It appeared that he hadn't bothered to take a lunch break. His desk was covered in papers and books, the edges of his computer screen tacked with Post-its. His hair was even wilder than usual. Even now, Arthur was absently running fingers through it as he looked through a large tome.

"Sir?" Alfred asked neutrally, waiting for Arthur to glance up.

"Yes?" Arthur's tone was a little tight, but he managed a smile.

"I was down at the bakery for lunch," Alfred said, pulling out his brown paper bag. "I have some extras if you would like them."

Arthur's eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise. "What do you have?"

"Basically one of everything," Alfred said, which was the truth. "I have scones, though, because you seem like you would..." He fell off in slight embarrassment. He had assumed the British guy would like scones.

Arthur read the silence masterfully, before gracing Alfred with a proper smile. "As sad as it sounds, scones are my favorite."

Alfred beamed, coming forward to set the bag on Arthur's desk. Before he could escape, Arthur's voice stopped him at the door.

"You've been talking to Marlene, haven't you?" He had taken a scone out of the bag and had already bitten into it. Yep, he'd skipped lunch.

"Sure..." Alfred kept his eyes away, like the secretary was someone he shouldn't be talking to.

To his surprise, Arthur barked a rough laugh. "Well, what did you want?"

"What do you mean?"

Arthur didn't bother answering, just raised his eyebrows higher.

Alfred shrugged, leaning in the doorway. "I want to talk with you."

Arthur didn't answer for another minute, working through his scone. "Well, perhaps that can be arranged."

Alfred grinned, "Thank you, sir. I know you're a busy man."

"Not busy enough to keep you away, I see," Arthur remarked dryly. Alfred decided wisely to step out then.

0 0 0

"Alfred! The refreshments cart!" Marlene hissed at him as he made his jolly way back from the bathroom later that afternoon. "He's already got clients in there."

"Shooooot." Alfred finished doing up his zipper and took off at a jog for the supply closet off the kitchenette. He grabbed the cart and ran the rest of the way, stopping just outside Arthur's office door to collect himself and adjust his tie. Two crisp knocks.

"Come in," Arthur called. He opened the door to find a family of three, sprawled across Arthur's cushy couch and Arthur perched lightly on the edge of his desk in full charm mode. "Just there will be fine, Alfred." He smiled at the couple's daughter. "And there are biscuits, of course."

"Coffee?" asked the father as Alfred was already halfway to the door.

"Yes, just there." Arthur pointed.

"Tea?" asked the mother.

"No," Arthur began. "I'm afraid-

"Yes, there's tea, Arthur," Alfred interrupted. "Look. Right there."

Arthur frowned, waving a hand dismissively at him. "I've been here eight years, Alfred. There has never once been-

"Ah, here it is." The mother held up a familiar green leafed box. "I don't believe I've ever had PG Tips."

"Weird firm brands," Alfred waved a hand jauntily. "They like getting the foreign stuff."

Arthur's mouth stayed open for a little too long, before he threw a sharp look back at his summer associate. Who was doing his best to act innocent. "That's something new."

"Maybe the firm's trying new things," Alfred shrugged, feeling a blush coming on, damnit. It didn't even make sense. He was just buttering Arthur up for lawyering tips, nothing more.

"Yes, well you better get back to your desk."

Alfred winced, but nodded.

"And when you get there, block me out for Wednesday noon to two on the calendar."

"Yessir."

"And Alfred?"

"Yessir?"

Arthur bit his lip to keep from smiling in a way that had warmth rushing all down Alfred's back. "Make sure you're free at that time. I'm a busy man, and criminal law's a lengthy subject."

Alfred's eyes widened and he didn't bother hiding his smile. "Yessir."

"I believe my name is Arthur."

Alfred chuckled. "Yes, Arthur."

* * *

 **Follow if you would like to stay updated, as this story does not have a regular update schedule yet. All support is appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I apologize in advance for any typos. I had to retype this whole chapter into the stupid FF docmanager, because it was screwing up. ahhhhh**

 **Thanks so much for all the support this has received so far! I know I said last chapter that this would be around 6 chapters, but that was a lie :P It will be twelve chapters exactly. Something to look forward to right? Maybe? Haha.**

 **Much love, doze**

* * *

Alfred followed at Arthur's heels as they waded their way through a bustling lunch crowd. Everyone and their birddog was on the streets at noon, fleeing the workplace for a bite of freedom. Alfred himself was relieved to feel the sun on his face, though he didn't dare loosen his tie in current company. Arthur may have been on the phone with a client, but that didn't lessen his wicked eye for detail.

The job had been going well as far as Alfred was concerned. He and Arthur had developed a tag team for entertaining clients. Armed with a dazzling smile, he would seat them in the waiting area and make polite chitchat about the city or the weather or whatever the hell got them grinning. And once they were in a good mood, Arthur would come out to fetch them, all confidence and swagger. It was no wonder the mags rated him so highly. He wiped clean on client approval.

Even so Alfred still felt he hadn't seen much actual lawyering. Arthur refused to let him sit in on client meetings, citing confidentiality. Which was bull anyway, because all he had to do was ask their permission.

Now Wednesday had finally rolled around for their lunch date, and Alfred was hellbent and determined to squeeze a promise to take him to court out of Arthur. This was action. Court was where it all happened. Alfred knew for a fact Arthur received some of the highest paying cases in the state. He was two feet away from history, and history happened to be a scrubby, tousle-haired British defender.

Arthur stopped abruptly, nearly causing Alfred to crash into him.

"Italian or Indian?" Arthur asked him, as Alfred looked around and realized he had no idea where they were.

"I'm good for whatever," he said, "whatever you want."

"Indian, then. Have you ever been to the Blue Diamond?" Arthur started walking again at a more leisurely pace, and Alfred stuck to him like a burr.

"I haven't even been in this part of the city."

It was a strange mishmash of residential houses as old as the colonies and new upscale buildings in cracked brick. New or old, whatever it was, it looked expensive.

"I live around here," Arthur said absently. Leading him towards an ivy-covered sign with an elephant on it.

"Makes sense for you," Alfred remarked without thinking. The force of curry seasoning caused his nostrils to flare, and his stomach to rumble, and apparently his brain to glitch.

Arthur arched an eyebrow, "And why is that?"

"I couldn't imagine you living in one of the condos downtown," he explained carefully. "You seem to like old things."

This Indian restaurant, with those standards, fitted right into Arthur's repertoire. The walls appeared to be mostly original brick, cracked and greying in places, giving the whole restaurant a rustic feel. The windows, if there were windows, were all covered. In drapes of deep burgundy, violet, and cerulean. Even the tile was cracked and yellowing, like someone had decided to slap 100 year old stone on the floor.

Arthur led him to a booth in the back, where a yellow light touched the table in an intimate glow. He expertly undid the button of his suit jacket as he slid in. Taking his time before answering Alfred with a rare crooked smile. "Well, you've obviously seen my office."

Alfred grinned in relief. At some point, he was going to get burned speaking off his ass to Arthur, but as of right now it hadn't happened yet. "You collect those ships?" He flipped open the silk clad menu to have the smile drop straight from his face. It was the kind of menu where they didn't attach dollar signs to prices. Meaning it was the kind of menu where he couldn't afford any of the food. Beginning to panic, he searched for the cheapest option. Salad or something, there had to be.

There wasn't.

"I do collect them," said Arthur, sounding pleased although Alfred didn't notice. "I especially like getting the warship models, to scale and all that. Sometimes I build them myself, but I haven't really had the time anymore."

"That's fascinating," Alfred muttered, scanning the menu. "Why haven't you had the time recently?"

"Take a guess," Arthur said in such a tone that made him look up. "Alfred, you're not listening. You know how I feel about that. That is my one rule."

Alfred blinked, feeling color rise to his cheeks. It was just small talk. Arthur didn't seriously expect him to pay attention one hundred percent of the time, did he?

"Listening is very important to being an attorney," Arthur said lightly as he scanned over his menu. "Even if you don't particularly value what the other person is saying, there is much to hear beyond the words. For. Example."

He enunciated the last words, forcing Alfred to look up again. Admittedly, he had stopped listening. "You're worried about having to pay for your meal, aren't you? You're trying to buy time. You asked me irrelevant questions that you obviously didn't want the answers to."

Alfred scowled. "That's not true!"

Arthur was not convinced, playing idly with the corner of his menu. He was being almost childish, Alfred felt. Arthur had been talking about his model ships, and Alfred had only been giving it partial attention. That was no reason to get his panties in a wad. If Alfred didn't think so highly of Arthur, he might have thought Arthur was sulking.

"You're buying time from me, saying things I want to hear," Arthur continued. And his tone was almost deceiving, nonchalant, light, uncaring. "I'm not upset. I'm just showing you how this works. Perhaps if you had been listening to me you would have realized this was an invitation, of which I would be remiss not to pay for. Or maybe if you had listened a little harder, you would have realized this is company business for me. This is a company credit card, and I am not stupid. You have worn the same suit since you were hired. You are a poor law student, and I never expected anything more. Waiter, we're ready." He finished abruptly, holding up a hand to catch the man that walked by. And effectively giving Alfred no chance for rebuttal.

Evidently, Arthur did not often bother to go out of his way to take his summer associates to lunch. Or at least it appeared that way to Alfred.

He floundered at the waiter, ordering the first thing on the menu. It didn't take a good listener to realize their booth had pitched ten levels into frosty.

Still, Alfred refused to roll over after all that. He wanted his day in court.

He watched Arthur for awhile, noticing that the man wasn't uncomfortable. He sipped from his water, even met Alfred's curious gaze a few times, expressionless. Maybe there were other reasons Arthur was such a good attorney. It wasn't always such a far leap from lawyering to acting.

"Arthur," he breathed. There was really only one way to reconcile this. "I'm sorry for not listening. It may be hard to believe, but I wanted this opportunity just so I could listen to you." Alfred paused before tacking on petulantly, "And if I didn't consider your ships interesting, I wouldn't have brought them up at all, let alone remembered them."

If anything he said surprised Arthur, it didn't show. He only nodded neutrally, his flaxen gold hair spitting the booth light in patterns. "Did you have particular questions first?"

"Of course, yes," Alfred leaned forward eagerly, watching as Arthur's expression softened in genuine surprise. "You thought I wouldn't?"

"Doubtless you would. I did not expect you to be so eager." Arthur brushed him off, looking to the side so that Alfred couldn't quite meet his gaze.

"After I went to all that trouble to get this appointment, too?" Alfred cleared his throat, attempting to level out the teasing before he got carried away. (Or worse: stopped listening.) It was difficult though. Arthur was more than a tease himself in the right mood. He seemed to enjoy the cat and mouse game of the courtroom so much that it leaked into his real life.

"Alright, yes," Arthur conceded. "Now what did you want to ask me so badly?"

Feeling that he was fast speeding his way through Arthur's limited shreds of patience, Alfred decided to start with his most important question. "Why did you become a defense attorney?"

The question seemed to take Arthur off guard, which was a little strange because Alfred thought it was fairly typical. He hesitated, but it wasn't the sort of silence from nothing to say. It was the sort of silence discerning what best to say. And Alfred was listening to it.

After a moment, Arthur gave a soft sigh, barely audible at all. "Well, what do you think?" He asked, dropping his fork against his plate with a clatter. "I did it for the money. I won't lie to you."

The noise had startled Alfred enough that he'd dropped his own fork. "That's it?"

"That's it."

Alfred frowned, meeting Arthur's gaze. But there was nothing to see there. "You didn't like arguing when you were young? Or you didn't want to fight for justice or something?"

Arthur snorted. "I'm good at arguing, Alfred. Good enough to turn a profit. I hate to bust your bubble, but I am a private defense attorney. I have a price, and I can be bought. Justice has very little to do with it."

Alfred tilted his head to the side, wondering why Arthur was telling him this. His tone was still neutral, if verging on annoyed. Like Alfred had asked a dumb question... Still, if this really was the truth, why hadn't Arthur lied? Alfred had never read this in any magazine article. He was certain Arthur had never spoken so plainly to his past summer associates. And if Alfred went with his gut, Arthur seemed almost... angry?

"Well, do you like it?" he asked bluntly.

"Like what? The benefits or the job?"

Something about Arthur's smile made Alfred close his mouth. Arthur's reasoning didn't sit well with him. It was the reasoning of someone who played the law like a musical instrument. These couldn't be Arthur's real reasons. It must be some kind of posture.

"Do you bill by hour?" He asked. His voice sounded very far away from him.

"Sometimes," Arthur returned to playing with his fork. "If I know it will take a long time, then yes. If not, case billing works better for me." He paused. "These are the types of questions that most of my past summer associates asked."

They sound like grade A people, Alfred almost said. He hadn't been planning to ask after Arthur's salary at all. His chest felt strangely deflated and he began to doubt his decision to accept this job. He could have been interning at the DA's office instead. Less prestige, but greater... passion.

"1000 dollars an hour minimum," Arthur continued after a few bites. The silence seemed to be making him uncomfortable, or perhaps Alfred was just imagining it. "And 20 hours payment upfront. 40 if it will be a lengthy case."

Alfred nearly dropped his fork again. "That's 20,000 dollars upfront."

Arthur blinked. "20,000 dollars is nothing. That won't even cover a year of your tuition."

"Yeah it would," Alfred shot back. "I'm on full-scholarship."

"Oh do forgive me." Arthur gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Tell me, Alfred. Why are you interested in being a defense attorney?"

 _You don't seem the type._

"Lots of reasons," Alfred shrugged. "I want to give people a defense because they have a right to one. The state shouldn't be allowed to walk over people left and right."

"Not even in the name of justice?" Arthur smirked sardonically at him. He seemed to know just what to say to get Alfred bristling.

Alfred smiled, "Guilty or not, everybody has a right to a defense. It's too much like dictatorship otherwise."

"You wouldn't feel guilty defending the bad guys?" Arthur appeared to be teasing, but Alfred sensed a genuine question behind the bravado. Being a defense attorney wasn't the easiest job in the world. People always seemed to direct their rage an attorney's way. How could you defend that murderer, that rapist, that thief? Always the question: How could you defend the bad guy?

Arthur pulled if off splendidly, by pretending he didn't care or didn't notice. Alfre had watched him with his clients, the way he handled them. Arthur appeared impervious to matters of conscience in the office. Alfred had done a lot of thinking on this matter. The question wasn't: Should they defend the bad guys? The question was: Does everybody have a right to a defense in court?

Alfred met Arthur's gaze steadily, feeling strangely confident. "Some people can't accept this, and that's fine. But it's written in the law: innocent until proven guilty. It bugs me that guilty men might be walking free. But I'm not the judge and I'm not the jury. That isn't my responsibility. I'm the defense, and every U.S. citizen has a right to a defense. To be honest, I think I would feel worse as the prosecution, convicting someone who I personally believed was innocent."

Arthur stared at Alfred for a long time, like he had never really looked before.

"So I wanted to be your summer associate because I think your job is important," Alfred sniffed cautiously at his curry and then grinned. "I hope you'll forgive me for being stereotypical."

Arthur shook his head, returning to his own plate. "I shall endeavor to."

Alfred chuckled. "It seems like we got off track. You weren't supposed to be interrogating _me_."

"Sorry. Force of habit." Arthur murmured. "There are more questions?"

"Well, I only got to ask two."

"Dear me, we'll be here all day."

"Be honest. You wouldn't mind that so much, would you?" Alfred challenged daringly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. "I have work to do."

"That's an attorney's answer, if I ever heard one." Alfred mimicked, tipping his nose into the air.

"And so he can be taught," Arthur snorted. "I'll just go for a kip and leave you to finish all the client research then?"

" _There's_ some experience for me," Alfred whistled, pleased when it earned him a laugh from Arthur. He didn't miss that Arthur had avoided answering the question again. "So because I am interested, what first got _you_ interested in those boats?"

His question caught Arthur off guard another time. "We're straying from the topic of criminal law again," he said to buy himself time.

Alfred shrugged. "Or purposefully veering away from it. I've taken up your lunch break, haven't I? You must be tired of talking about law 24/7. You shouldn't have to do it on your break."

"I knew what I was getting into when I invited you out."

Alfred smiled. "So how about those boats?"

This time Arthur watched him, his expression almost suspicious before replying. "It was a long time ago. When I was a boy. There was an antiques shop in my town. It was the first time I'd ever seen a ship in a bottle. I saved up all my money to buy it. Since then, I've been harboring this obsession, I suppose."

Alfred grinned in delight, trying to picture the hardened attorney before him as a young boy with itching fingers and a heart full of antique dreams. "That's amazing," he said warmly.

"An exaggeration," Arthur remarked with all his attention on the remaining bit of his curry.

"No, it isn't," Alfred insisted. "It's such an interesting thing to collect. All I've got from when I was young is some bent baseball cards."

"Baseball is hardly popular in England. I'm sure if I grew up in America, I wouldn't be all that different," Arthur said logically, but Alfred snorted.

"I'm sure you would." He grinned at Arthur's annoyed look. "The country doesn't make the person, Arthur. Although, I admit, your accent is such a cheat in court."

"Excuse me?"

Alfred refused to be cowed. "Juries fall over themselves to listen to you, even if they don't understand your big law words, I promise. And," he added, "I know that you've noticed it. You're too smart not to."

"I don't believe you've ever seen me in court." Arthur said, with a question behind the statement.

Alfred grinned like a wolf. "I haven't had the pleasure."

"You know, it seems to me that you could stand to be knocked down a few pegs," Arthur noted, but it was only hollow irritation. "You're getting much too comfortable."

Alfred sighed, forcing himself to let go of his exuberant manner. Cat and mouse all over again. "Thank you for lunch, Arthur. I really do appreciate your time."

Arthur nodded dismissively, catching the waiter for the check. It wasn't until they were out of the restaurant, skirting empty city streets, did Arthur speak again. "Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you're naive. I think you're too hopeful about this job. I think you'll regret shadowing me."

Alfred didn't know what to say.

"But I'm willing to indulge you, because you were honest with me." Arthur took a deep breath, adjusting his tie and turning to Alfred with an expression like he'd swallowed a lemon. "Alfred, would you like to join me in court next week?"

0 0 0

All the rest of the day, Alfred was bouncing on air. He hadn't even had to claw it out of Arthur. Arthur had asked him to court! He recounted the story to Marlene in the break room, attorney secretaries dropping in left and right to eavesdrop. Just about everybody had had a taste of Arthur's less-than-stellar temperament at some point. They congratulated Alfred on his wherewithal. He was Arthur's first summer associate to be invited to court. He had basically walked on water in Thompson Lang terms.

Later, Marlene stacked a set of reports on his desk, before instructing him to take them to Arthur. He was off in ten minutes, so he didn't mind her dumping them on him. Just about nothing could take him down from this high.

He knocked on Arthur's door, waiting for the usual grumpy acknowledgement. But there was nothing. Had he slipped out?

Alfred tried the handle to find it unlocked, and carefully leaned round. "Arthur?"

To his amusement, Arthur was still in the office, but in no state to answer him. His head was pillowed on his arms, surrounded in floods of paperwork on his desk. His mouth gaped, and marks littered his face, suggesting he'd been asleep for awhile. It was so uncharacteristic that Alfred had to stare.

As soon as they walked into the Plaza earlier that day, Arthur had started up a string of complaints. He'd forgotten he had a meeting with the other lawyers on his floor and that lunch was being catered. A notification on his phone had reminded him. It was a lucky thing he and Alfred had gotten done early, although he wasn't looking too pleased about it.

Alfred supposed the extra deli food on top of his large plate of curry had been too much for Arthur. And he had succumbed to an afternoon nap.

Alfred set the stack of reports on Arthur's desk with a last grin, and clocked out.

0 0 0

Bright and early the next morning, the day began anew at Thompson Lang. Fielding Arthur's calls and adding up billable hours. Arthur usually came in around the same time that he did, but Alfred hadn't seen him yet. Already, he had to tell three of Arthur's clients to call again later.

Around ten, he skirted over to Marlene's desk. "Arthur's really late today, isn't he?"

She looked up distractedly, "He hasn't come in yet?"

"I haven't seen him."

"Are you sure he's not in his office?"

"Yeah, he hasn't walked by. I mean, it's right next to my desk."

Finally, she looked up at him. "Are you sure he's not in is office?"

"How... could he be in his office?"

"He stays the night sometimes." She explained, going back to typing. "When he feels like he has a lot of work to do."

Alfred blinked. "Oh. I didn't know that."

She merely nodded, intent on whatever she was doing. He headed back to his desk with a slight crease between his brows. Just as he sat down, the door to Arthur's office swung open.

"I'm assuming you're the reason my mobile is blowing up right now?" Arthur leaned in the doorway, tie loosened, jacket missing, and sleeves rolled up. Some inner part of Alfred danced gleefully to see that Arthur wore suspenders. It was the same suit as yesterday. Marlene had been right.

"I didn't realize you were in," Alfred apologized meekly. "I didn't see you this morning."

"Best to assume I'm here. Or walk the two feet and check." Arthur commented wryly, but he didn't seem to be in a bad mood. His eyes were a little squinty, and he had a night's stubble accumulating on his cheeks. His hair nearly made Alfred smile. It was an absolute mess, a literal haystack. "Come here. I want to show you something."

Without waiting for an answer, Arthur disappeared back inside his office.

Show him something? Alfred's curiosity was piqued. He followed behind, noticing with some amazement that the whirlwind of papers on Arthur's desk had all disappeared. The office was spick and span, not a stray book in sight.

"Are you seeing clients today?" He asked.

"No, I'm heading into court in a few hours," Arthur responded with his mouth barely open like he was trying not to yawn. "I'll be leaving soon. I have to freshen up."

"What did you want to show me?" Alfred asked.

"This." Arthur knelt down to pick something up from a duffel bag. He held it out to Alfred, who smiled when he saw it. A tiny bottle with a tiny ship inside. "I needed to clear my head last night, so I took a quick walk and thought I'd grab this from my place." Arthur went on, sounding strangely awkward.

Alfred's eyes flittered to Arthur's face curiously. He was acting so carefully nonchalant.

"It's beautiful," he said, taking it carefully to examine. The boat was carved intricately, its beautiful sails positioned perfectly to look as if they were billowing with wind. Arthur stood in front of him watching, uncertain.

"That was my first one," Arthur explained, shifting. "The one... the one that I told you about before."

"Is it?" Alfred laughed. He set it carefully amongst the other more ornate ones on Arthur's table. "I think it looks good with the ones here."

"It's not as nice," Arthur said, with that irritating eye for detail.

"So?" Alfred shrugged, grinning. "It was the first, and there will never be another first."

Arthur met his gaze, something strange hovering just beyond his expression. He reached out and straightened the small ship. "Cancel any client meetings this afternoon, would you?"

"Done and done," Alfred agreed cheerily. "Anything else?"

Arthur didn't say a word, still fiddling with the ship until he'd got it in just the right position. "Are you available to work overtime today?"

Alfred blinked, cocking his head. "Yes, I think so."

"That case," Arthur said, finally meeting his eyes. "The one I'm taking you to court for. I want you to help me prepare my argument."

Alfred's eyes grew huge. "Really?"

"You won't learn anything just sitting out there with Marlene all day." Arthur rolled his eyes. Although he obviously hadn't had a problem letting his other summer associates learn nothing.

"Thank you so much, Arthur," Alfred beamed. "You won't regret it."

Arthur winced, but only waved him away.

"Arthur?" Alfred paused at the door. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did, but go on."

Alfred grinned sheepishly. "Why are you letting me do all these things? Marlene said you never used to let your summer associates help you like that before."

"Marlene is a horrible gossip and a terrible influence on you apparently." Arthur gave him a ragged smile, letting Alfred catch a glimpse of just how tired he really was. "Besides, it is extremely dubious whether you are _helping_ me or not."

"Hey," Alfred wrinkled his nose. "All the other attorneys are always grateful to their summer associates."

"Yes, well, I am not in the habit of baseless flattery," Arthur said with something of his crooked smile. "I believe you have some calls to make, Alfred."

Alfred mock-groaned. "And you get to spend all day in court."

"My one true home." Arthur shook his head. "You'll have your day. Now stop pestering me. There are things I need to do."

Alfred finally dragged himself away, well aware that Arthur had once again evaded the question.


	3. Chapter 3

**Later in this chap we get to see a bit of Arthur's POV. So fair warning, haha. This story played out in such a way that I tend to switch viewpoints from here on out. I don't think it's too confusing, so hopefully you won't either.**

 **Thank you for all the love this story has received so far. You're all wonderful!**

 **Much love, doze**

* * *

A thunderstorm had started outside. It rocked the building with its force. Alfred worried, perhaps needlessly that it would break the windows. They were pretty high up in the sky after all. As much as he was a fan of stuntmen, he didn't want to be one.

One by one the other attorneys and their secretaries had headed home until Alfred was certain he was the only one left on the entire floor. Arthur had yet to make a reappearance from court, causing Alfred to wonder if Arthur had simply forgotten him. He debated leaving, but each time he worked himself into a nervous state imagining Arthur's fury if he returned and Alfred wasn't there.

So Alfred promised himself to sit like a good soldier until seven thirty.

But he was starving and exhausted and eventually he just fell asleep at his desk. Roused much later at eight by a squelching sound.

"Arthur?" He muttered groggily.

"Yes, I apologize for my tardiness," Arthur said, sounding frazzled. As Alfred blinked the sleep from his eyes, he realized that Arthur was soaked, hair plastered to his forehead.

"Forget an umbrella?" Alfred yawned.

"Yes, terribly negligent of me, considering where I grew up." Arthur responded, shrugging off his suit jacket and dropping it on the floor. "Well, it's all ruined now. Dry clean only, ha."

"Ha."

"Have you eaten?"

"No."

"Good, I've got Chinese in the waiting room. I'm going to change and we can get started." Before he could dart off, Arthur made himself pause at the door. "I am... sorry for keeping you so long. I hadn't realized I would be this late."

"It's nothing." Alfred stretched. "I've already sold my soul to become a lawyer anyway."

To his delight, Arthur laughed. "Tremendous. We can move on to step two."

"And what's that?"

"A day where you don't leave the office."

That sounded ominous. Alfred wandered off to claim his portion of Chinese food, searching at least fifteen minutes for silverware in the kitchenette. He was just scooping out some lo mein when Arthur returned. Alfred had to physically stop himself from doing a double take. For whatever reason, he had just assumed that Arthur had an unlimited supply of suits hidden away. Imagining Arthur in something other than a suit had been so far out of his realm of possibility that his brain glitched when presented with the image.

Arthur's hair had been towel dried, and he hadn't bothered to style it. (He rarely did.) He was wearing a set of faded tracksuit bottoms and a fitted dark, green hoodie that made his eyes seem unnaturally bright. His socks were mismatched, one argyle one black.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, noticing Alfred's surprise despite his best efforts to hide it. "I didn't have a more decent set of clothes."

"No, no, it's your office," Alfred held up his hands. "Wear whatever you want."

"Thanks for your permission," Arthur said dryly, although he did seem slightly uncomfortable after all that. Alfred noticed that he kept adjusting his hoodie strings.

"Alright," Arthur said once Alfred had instated himself in one of Arthur's cushy office chairs. "We have a fair bit to do. You see those mustard yellow books on the shelf? Do you know what those are?"

Alfred frowned. "Case records. I'm not an idiot, Arthur. I have used them before."

"Forgive my presumption." Arthur's voice dripped with sarcasm. He paused for a moment to bite into his orange chicken. "We're looking for a case similar to mine, where the ruling could be interpreted in my favor. If we can find it, it makes our whole argument so much simpler."

"Precedent." Alfred murmured and Arthur nodded.

"Exactly. Precedent. I would try the books on the bottom shelf to the right. Specifically, that first volume."

Alfred blinked in surprise. "You're not going to help?"

Arthur snorted. "I have an argument to pen, Alfred. Your contribution will only make my life easier, but it isn't necessary."

Alfred gave a snort. "You're excellent at boosting morale, sir. I see why you enjoy working in team situations so much."

"Careful. There are worse jobs than what I've given you, and I will put in the extra effort to find them, if I must."

"I have complete faith in that statement," Alfred replied, getting to his feet. Arthur handed him a small typed overview of the case and he set to work, lifting the heavy books and scattering them across the floor. It took him a few minutes of page-flipping to notice that Arthur hadn't actually moved, other than to put his feet on his desk.

"Forgive my presumption," Alfred said, borrowing a phrase of Arthur's.

Arthur's fork scraped the bottom of the Chinese box as he gathered up the last bit of rice. "That may be a tall order."

"Didn't you say you had an argument to pen?"

"I did say." Arthur agreed, still not moving. "I'll be done before you, at any rate, so I'm taking my time."

"Is that a challenge, sir?" Alfred asked, sitting up and folding his hands together. "I know you don't think very highly of me, but so far all my law professors agree."

"Agree on what?" Arthur frowned suspiciously.

"That I have a knack for finding the right answer quickly." Alfred flipped another page. "I'll have your answer and I'll be done before ten. How long does it take you to write an argument?"

"If I needed to, I could be done by nine thirty."

Alfred grinned, hiding it with his fist. "That sounds like a challenge to me."

Arthur sighed, setting his to-go box down. "It sounds like I'm going to shame you into giving up on the law profession is what it sounds like. But..." He pulled up Word on his computer. "If you insist." And then he did smile, nasty and competitive.

Alfred's heart stuttered, before he smirked back. "Someone's gonna be shamed out of the law profession, but it isn't going to be me."

From then on, he was racing against the sound of Arthur's clacking keyboard. Any minute he expected Arthur to look up and be through. It was exhilarating. Case after case in the records was irrelevant, but he refused to back down. He was beginning to believe Arthur had given him and impossible task, but it didn't matter. He was going to pull it off.

A couple of times he felt Arthur watching him, although he didn't dare look and mess up his rhythm.

"Aha!" He shouted suddenly, causing Arthur to nearly spill his tea. "Got something."

"I'll be the judge of that," Arthur grumbled ungenerously.

" _Sanderson v. City of San Francisco_ ," Alfred brought the book over, nearly tripping over himself. "Defendant embezzles funds from-

"Nope, doesn't count." Arthur interrupted, gleefully.

"Why not!"

"My case is not an embezzlement case."

Alfred crossed his arms. "You can't be serious. You're splitting hairs. You could totally use this."

Arthur shrugged. "If I wanted to lose."

Alfred's mouth fell open, and to his dismay Arthur laughed at him.

"I would hurry if I were you," He chuckled. "I'm nearly through."

Scowling and muttering about technicalities, Alfred threw himself back at the books. He'd wipe that smirk clean off of Arthur's face yet. Just you wait.

The minutes whistled by with no heed to Alfred. Awhile ago, Arthur had stopped clacking on his keyboard. Alfred could feel the other man's eyes on him.

"I'd pay attention to your screen if I were you," Alfred snapped without even looking up. His fingers were almost shaking from adrenaline. To his surprise, Arthur jumped, evidently unaware that Alfred had noticed him watching.

"No need for that tone," he remarked softly. "I'm already through."

Alfred groaned, having to restrain himself from throwing the book across the room. "Seriously? Why didn't you say so?"

"I recommend you avoid making challenges you have no hope of winning," Arthur responded, irritating Alfred by avoiding the question.

"How long have you been done?" Alfred asked, running his finger down the page, still scanning for answers. The least he could do was come up with something. He had a small list of rejects on a legal pad that he was pretty sure wouldn't meet Arthur's obnoxiously high standards.

"Since yesterday."

Alfred froze. "Yesterday?"

"Yesterday."

"Yesterday! You've been finished since yesterday!" He shouted at Arthur in disbelief.

Arthur shrugged, unruffled. "I never lied to you."

Alfred huffed. "Yeah, and I'm the Queen of England. Yesterday? You're such a-

He managed to stop himself before he said something truly damning.

"A what?"

"Nothing."

"Say it."

"No." Alfred exhaled in exasperation, giving Arthur a half-smile. "It'll get me fired."

"I promise I won't fire you for it," Arthur said, putting a hand theatrically against his chest. "In fact, I give you my word."

"Because your word is worth so much to me," Alfred grinned.

"You never asked if I was already done with it, Alfred."

"Yeah, because I didn't think you'd be playing Jedi mind tricks on me. Fuck, Arthur, you're such a fucking bastard." Alfred held his breath afterwards, expecting Arthur's temper to snap. It would be a real accomplishment, getting fired here and having no law experience going into his 3L year.

Arthur shrugged. "Perhaps the reason my other summer associates never received this opportunity was because they knew they couldn't handle it."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "And perhaps it's because the weather wasn't right or your tea was cold or they figured you an honest man."

Arthur didn't respond for almost a solid minute, just stared at him until he felt compelled to take it back.

"Alright, I didn't mean that," Alfred muttered, slamming the book closed. "I'm not even angry, really."

"Really?" Arthur was unconvinced.

"Really," Alfred laughed. "I honestly think it was kind of funny. You tricked me into working quickly by using my own challenge against me. Couldn't ask for better. Here." He got to his feet, holding out his measly list of cases. "I don't know if you can use any of these, but it's what I've got."

Arthur barely glanced at it, dropping it on his desk. "Alfred."

"What?" He stopped at the door, rubbing at a vicious crick in his neck.

Arthur opened his mouth, before shaking his head. Changing his mind. "You do know what court attire is, correct?"

"Is this okay?" Alfred gestured himself down.

"A little less wrinkled. Put an iron to it. Do something with your hair."

Alfred exhaled, looking away. _He was one to talk._ "Okay, I'll be prepared."

"Alfred?"

Alfred sighed. "Yes?"

"Thank you for assisting me," Arthur didn't quite meet his gaze, eyes somewhere above him. "From what I can see, you... certainly have the tenacity to be a good researcher so long as your idiotic competitive side doesn't get in your way."

It was a twisted compliment, but it was a compliment.

Alfred beamed. "See you in court, commander."

0 0 0

Arthur Kirkland had been to court enough times that he didn't get nervous anymore. Even the butterflies in his stomach had died off by now. In some sense, every one of his cases played out the same way. It was only a matter of time before he had become desensitized enough not to feel the dire stakes his clients were feeling.

Arthur liked to win. If a case was fast tanking around him, he could usually dredge up a bit of gusto for the fight. He took pride in his unbeatable reputation. The DA's office hated him with a pure, unfettered passion. It was simply good fun to rile them up and he felt he would show up to court if only for that pleasure.

He stood impatiently at Marlene's desk, briefcase in hand, checking his watch for the third time.

"Where is Mr. Jones?"

Marlene glanced up at him. "Well, not at my desk obviously."

Arthur leveled her with a glare he usually saved for the plaintiff. "Obviously. If I recall correctly, you two get on like good friends. I thought you might know where he was."

"Not at his desk?"

"I had thought to check there," Arthur replied wryly. "I could hardly miss him as it is right outside my door."

"Hmm." She gave him her full attention, raising a single eyebrow. "Something serious must have happened."

"What do you mean?" Arthur checked his watch again, beginning to grow angry. He did not give summer associates opportunities likes this. Alfred was proving to him exactly why that was.

"Well, he wouldn't skip it," She explained like he was an idiot. "He was over the moon when you asked him."

"He was?"

She rolled her eyes. "Something serious must have come up."

Arthur frowned, glancing at his watch again. She could see him adding up the minutes before asking her abruptly, "Do you have his mobile number?"

"I'm sure it's somewhere in the system."

"Well, find it. I have to go. When you know what's happening, give me a ring."

"Won't you be in court?"

Arthur rolled his eyes back at her, antagonizing. "Leave a message, Marlene." He exited with an exasperated flip of his hand.

Marlene stared after him for a moment, before searching Alfred's name in the directory. Alfred may not have realized it, but he was being treated _nothing_ like Arthur's past associates.

0 0 0

It was about midway through that Alfred slipped through the doors of the courtroom with his head down. He looked extremely sheepish as he took a seat amongst the audience. And Arthur was furious because he had not received a call from Marlene. He abhorred not knowing all the facts, especially when he should have access to them.

He convinced the judge to allow him a brief recess, before turning on his heel and sweeping out of the courtroom. Sparing only a single moment to look Alfred in the eye and say sharply, "Mr. Jones, may we speak in the hall?"

Alfred flinched, reaching down to grab a backpack that had been under the bench before following Arthur to the door.

"What," Arthur turned on him in the hallway, all but crackling with restrained fury, "is your excuse for being so heinously tardy? Did you speak with Marlene?" He tried to check the harshness in his voice a bit too late. For all he knew, Alfred's father had died or something.

"Yes, I spoke with Marlene," Alfred said, sounding embarrassed. "She said it would be better if I explained where I had been."

Arthur scowled. He would be having words with her later. "Well?" The malice in that single word was enough to make Alfred quail.

"I got lost." He muttered.

"You got lost?" Arthur repeated, feeling the last walls of his temper break. The next thing he knew his voice was echoing loudly up and down the halls. "You got lost on your way to a job you go to every day! How is that possible! I knew you were incompetent, but I didn't think you could reach such heights, you utter imbecile."

Alfred bristled, sticking his chin up. "I took a different route. I... wanted to pick up something before I met you at work."

"What? You couldn't have waited to get a donut!" Arthur sneered. "Do you think you'll ever become an attorney by being an hour late to session? You wanted me to talk to you. I'm talking. You'll never be an attorney the way you are now. I wish they had assigned me some other dunderhead. I'm never taking you to court again, Jones."

Alfred's eyes grew huge. "Arthur, I'm sorry, I-

"It's too late for that," Arthur snarled. "Get out of here. Go back to the office. I don't want to see your face for the rest of the day."

Alfred's mouth hung open, before he let out a heavy sigh. "I understand." His shoulders hunched up like he had been kicked, and his eyes grew baleful and sad. It only served to make Arthur angrier. Alfred had no right to pout. He'd been given a privilege and now he'd lost it of his own stupidity.

"Your bag is still here, idiot!" Arthur called in annoyance when Alfred turned, leaving the faded blue backpack at Arthur's feet.

"It's yours." Alfred mumbled, walking faster and faster. Until he broke into a run as he exited the court building.

Arthur scowled further. He considered just leaving the bag in the hallway, filthy thing it was. But Alfred would probably want it back, and no doubt expected Arthur to bring it to him like _he_ was _Alfred's_ assistant. Grumbling in annoyance, he bent down to yank it up, surprised by how heavy it was. Something inside crackled strangely like the white paper used to protect breakable items.

Arthur set it down on the bench, struggling with the cheap zippers. Carefully, he removed the wads of white paper. A bottle neck and cork became visible and he contemplated this a moment. Alfred had gotten him some wine? That didn't make sense. What-

The pieces clicked together audibly and Arthur ripped the rest of the paper away. The bottle was a bit scratched and banged up. Part of the glass even looked burnt. But the ship on the inside glistened with remarkable youth. Obviously crafted by hand. The sails were beautiful sweeping white, tied on by miniature ropes around miniature masts.

Alfred was late... picking up this?

For a minute, he simply couldn't compute it. Dimly, he felt his client, tugging on his sleeve. Recess was ending soon. But his mind was a million miles away. It wasn't a very nice model, true. But it was... it was the first that he hadn't bought with his own money. The first anyone had ever bought for him.

Carefully, Arthur covered the ship in wads of crackling paper, slinging the bag over his shoulder. "Mr. Yoo, I'm going to ask that the court take a recess until tomorrow."

"Why?"

"I don't imagine the judge will have a problem with it." Arthur avoided the question like child's play.

0 0 0

"I'm sorry, Alfred." Marlene attempted to console him, looking genuinely angry. "He can be so irrational sometimes. I promise you he'll get over it soon. He likes you."

Alfred snorted moodily as he flicked through the billable hours chart. "Yeah, well, it was my own dumb fault anyway. I saw the ship on my way here and I had to get it. It wasn't expensive really, and I know he really likes them."

She nodded emphatically. "Even so, it was no reason for him to blow his top like that. I'll be having words with him."

Alfred shrugged, not actually in the mood for talking. He was pretty bummed that he'd missed out on his court opportunity. He had really been looking forward to hearing Arthur argue. For once, he wanted to see someone else on the receiving end of that pants-pissing glare. He hadn't meant to be late. It was one stray turn and then one more. All at once, he realized he'd be needing the maps app on his phone.

Alfred had known Arthur would be angry, but he hadn't expected him to blow up like that. It was as if Alfred had personally offended him by not showing up. It probably had to do with how he was the first summer associate to get these privileges. Now, he'd blown it for himself and everyone that happened to come after him. Arthur was no patient teacher.

"Come back to apologize?" Marlene's voice carried over to Alfred from down the hall.

"Is Alfred in?" Arthur circumvented the question as neatly as he ever did.

"Of course, he's in." Marlene growled. "You've put him in timeout."

"Not without due provocation, I assure you."

"Arthur, you better apologize to that boy. He looks up to you, and I won't see you walk all over him like everybody else."

"Oh, you've taken up his cause for him, have you? I shall have to watch my step."

"I know you like him, Arthur." Marlene raised her voice. "You can pretend otherwise, but you've got a soft spot for him, if I ever saw one."

"Fill out a survey card next time you feel like talking office dynamics with me. Alfred? Are you in?" Arthur rounded the corner, looking slightly harassed. Apparently, Marlene could be a force of nature when she wanted to be.

"Sorry," Alfred apologized, barely stopping a blush. "She does what she wants."

"I'm more than aware." Arthur shook his head. Alfred noticed that the blue bag was slung over his shoulder.

"Aren't you back early?"

"I'm going to suggest a do-over." Arthur glossed over him. He leaned against the edge of Alfred's desk. "Tomorrow, you will not stop for unnecessary trinkets, and I will not lose my temper. Tomorrow, you will be better at this. Deal?"

"Is that an apology?" Alfred murmured. He didn't honestly think he deserved an apology, but there was no harm in trying for one.

"It is an offer. Do you want to come to court or not?"

"You're going to make me settle for no apology?" Alfred cocked his head.

"Many disputes are resolved by settlements." Arthur returned calmly, examining his fingernails.

"Okay." Alfred bit his lip. "I have a settlement offer. I want an apology. I don't care if you lose your temper again, but I want an apology."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "We have reached an impasse, Jones."

"Guess I'll see you in court then." Alfred chirped, barely pausing a moment before barreling onward. "Did you like it?"

"Like what?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "You know what."

"Are you expecting a thank-you note?" Arthur asked bitingly.

Alfred refused to be brought down again. "It would be nice."

"Very well then." Arthur grabbed a pen and a stack of sticky notes from Alfred's desk. " _Thank you, Alfred. For being so very late to court to buy me something I already have so many of. Yours with love, Arthur._ "

"There." He finished, tacking the note to Alfred's computer screen. "We're done talking about it."

Alfred smiled softly, carefully moving the note to the edge of his monitor. "If you say so."


	4. Chapter 4

**I apologize in advance for the Hamilton reference. It found its way into the draft and I didn't have the heart to let it die. :)**

 **Thank you for all your kind reviews and support.**

 **Much love, doze**

* * *

Alfred stepped into the courtroom at Arthur's side, feeling like he was stepping into the arena. Everything about the courtroom felt new and fresh as if the previous day had never happened. He got to enter and sit at Arthur's table only feet from the judge and jury.

With uncharacteristic patience, Arthur explained his argument in a whisper to Alfred. Even let Alfred look over his notes. Until yesterday, Alfred had never really gotten to see Arthur's handwriting. Unlike the chicken scratch of Alfred's law professors, Arthur's handwriting curved elegantly with perfect loops and hooks. It looked like the Declaration of Independence 2.0. Old and antique and... Alfred glanced up at the focused attorney beside him... and very Arthur.

The judge announced the beginning of the session, and Arthur stood to introduce Alfred. "Your honor, this is my associate, Alfred Jones, and he will be observing us this morning."

This statement seemed to bring quite a few laughs from the prosecution. Particularly from a young lawyer close in age to Arthur with long, bouncing blonde hair. If Arthur heard their laughter, he made no sign of it, stacking his papers and calling his next witness to the stand.

Watching Arthur's interrogation was nothing short of incredible. He worked the witnesses with charm, with menace, with accusation, with flattery. And he always seemed to get exactly what he wanted. Only a few times could the prosecution manage objections and many times did the judge overrule them.

After his last witness, Arthur settled beside Alfred again with a sigh, the corners of his lips quirked. The young prosecutor who had laughed so hard at Arthur stood to interrogate their client. Alfred had learned that his name was Francis Bonnefoy.

"Now, Mr. Yoo," Francis began with nearly as sleazy and charming a smile as Arthur. "You would say Mr. Kingsley was deserving of a fallout, would you not?"

"Objection. Speculation." Arthur crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows at Francis who merely smirked back.

"Sustained."

"Let me rephrase." Francis continued. "Do you consider Mr. Kingsley's treatment of you to be unfair?"

"Objection."

"On the basis of what?" Francis turned to smile charmingly Arthur's way, but Alfred saw his eye twitch.

"Too general."

They both looked towards the judge. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kirkland. Overruled."

"Well, he was always very hard on his underlings," Mr. Yoo said carefully. Alfred saw him glance nervously Arthur's way, uncertain how to proceed.

"Answer the question please." Francis glanced down at his notes.

"Yes, then. I don't see how it is relevant." Mr. Yoo brushed down his jacket, flustered.

"And if something, say the loss of a bunch of money, were to befall Mr. Kingsley, you would have no remorse?"

"Objection." Arthur sat up straight this time. "Relevancy."

Francis scowled. "Are you going to object to everything I say?"

"With pleasure." Arthur smiled. "Your honor?"

"I imagine it is relevant, Mr. Kirkland. As Mr. Kingsley did lose a 'bunch of money' as Mr. Bonnefoy so elegantly put it. Overruled."

Alfred expected Arthur to be upset, but he only smiled charmingly and settled back into his seat. "All in good time," He muttered to Alfred. Arthur let Francis continue with his interrogation more or less unhindered. When the time came for closing arguments, Arthur stood to give his first, pacing back and forth in front of the jury. And this was Arthur's real talent, Alfred realized.

The man was a true orator, painting Mr. Yoo as the party wronged and making the DA sound utterly incompetent for bringing the case to trial at all. At the same time, his warm smile and debonair dress made him seem impossible to disagree with. When he sat down, Alfred couldn't help but shake his head. His ears buzzed with all of Arthur's 'suggestions'.

Then, Francis Bonnefoy stood up and the tables flipped. Alfred had never heard of Francis, although he imagined if he had interned at the DA's office he would have heard of him real fast. Francis took up Mr. Kingsley's mantle as if it were his own, and he had been bamboozled by sleazy Mr. Yoo and his crooked attorney Arthur. He had a strong French accent which seemed just the match for Arthur's English one.

Alfred tried to guess the sway of the jury, but it was impossible. Once the jury had been dismissed, he turned to Arthur. "Looking good? Bad?"

Arthur glanced over his shoulder to catch Mr. Yoo eavesdropping. "Superb, I should say. We have this in the bag."

At the same time, Alfred realized that Mr. Bonnefoy was also listening in. It was nearly impossible to have a private conversation in court.

"I'm going to the toilet," Arthur announced, rather unnecessarily. He stood up and as he did, he nonchalantly grabbed the edge of Alfred's sleeve and tugged. After Arthur had left, he took his cue and headed for the men's restroom.

He found Arthur, splashing his face with water in an empty bathroom. "That was incredible."

Arthur looked up, raising his thick eyebrows.

"That was so incredible," Alfred said again, for lack of anything else to say. The phrase just repeated itself over and over again in his head.

"My goal in life is to render you speechless, Alfred," Arthur responded with a roll of his eyes. "Don't dissuade me. I know it's impossible, but I have my heart set on it."

"Ha. Ha." Alfred skipped forward to lean against the counter beside him. "So good or bad?"

"It could go either way," Arthur responded neutrally, but there was a sparkle in his eye. "You'll have to wait and see."

"It's not a suspense drama, Arthur," Alfred complained lightly.

"Alfred, I could not possibly get into the jury's heads so effectively as you seem to think. I cannot read minds."

"Doubtful." Alfred grinned.

"Mph. So what did you think of Francis?"

"Mr. Bonnefoy?"

"If you must insist on giving him a title." Arthur shrugged, running his fingers through his hair as he examined his reflection in the mirror.

"He was good," Alfred murmured. "I didn't expect him to counter you so well."

Arthur shrugged brutishly. It was one of the most ineloquent responses Alfred had ever seen from him, and after that incredible courtroom performance it was very noticeable. "Sometimes he provides competition."

Alfred cocked his head curiously, watching as Arthur fiddled with his tie. "Well, Francis was very good with the jury, too. I think most of the ladies thought he was handsome."

"God knows why."

"The men straightened up whenever he spoke," Alfred offered. "They respected him."

"Terrible judges of character."

Alfred shrugged. "Well, I thought he was very convincing."

"He has no case, Alfred!" Arthur snapped abruptly. "It's all empty words and smiles."

"You think you won then?" Alfred asked, tracing his finger across the counter, drawing patterns in the water. This topic irritated Arthur. Why? "Francis seemed pretty confident."

"Unwarranted confidence," Arthur said, standing up taller and looking him in the eye. "I've won this one."

"I thought you said you couldn't be sure."

"I was joking, obviously."

Alfred had to force himself not to smirk. "I don't know. Francis had a strong case to me."

"Your opinion is neither wanted nor valid." Arthur snapped, pushing past him. "I'm going to consult Mr. Yoo."

"To do what?" Alfred spoke before he could stop himself. "Console him for the impending loss?"

Arthur whirled to face him, looking genuinely angry. "I believe you came here to shadow me, not Francis Bonnefoy. If you would like to jump ship, by all means, I'll hold the door."

"So much for not losing your temper," Alfred muttered and then wondered if he had some sort of death wish. It was just so easy to push Arthur, and it only seemed to get easier.

Arthur's green eyes flared with anger, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. The magazines were right. He did have a terrible temper. "Go on then." His voice was cold, at odds with the fire in his eyes. "I'm sure Francis is around here somewhere. Why don't you learn something from him? That's what you're here for, is it not?"

"I'm here to learn," Alfred said carefully.

"And it matters not who you learn from, _I get it_." Arthur scowled and then abruptly seemed to lose patience with the whole situation, exiting the bathroom with a bang.

Alfred followed after him, wondering what the hell they had actually fought about. For whatever reason, Arthur loathed Francis Bonnefoy.

Speaking of the devil, the man himself lounged in the lobby with his counsel and client, looking perfectly at home in the courthouse. His neat gray suit caught the light, a salmon colored tie bringing warmth and color to Francis's whole ensemble. His long blonde curled lightly at the ends, bouncing whenever he turned. Alfred meant to slink by, but Francis spotted him and called out, "Alfred Jones, correct? Come here for a moment."

Alfred bit his lip, glancing about, but Arthur was nowhere in sight.

"Yes, I'm Alfred." He shook Francis's outstretched hand. The cloying smell of Francis's cologne surrounded him in a cloud. "Pleased to meet you sir."

"You're a summer associate, are you not?" Francis seemed genuinely curious, a polite smile coloring his features warmly.

Alfred nodded. "I am."

"You'll have to forgive me. It is surprising. Arthur has not made it a habit of bringing his associates to court. I had not even known he had associates." General laughter echoed about the prosecutor's counsel.

Alfred grinned sheepishly. "I would be the first to make it to court."

"Really?" Francis leaned forward with a wider smile. "That must make you something special."

"I wouldn't say that." Alfred replied, shifting his weight.

Francis shrugged. "Perhaps you wouldn't, but that doesn't make it untrue. What? Have you used your smile to charm him?" Again the prosecutors laughed, all except Francis who seemed to have meant the question seriously.

Alfred blushed. "Oh no. Arthur is... merely being gracious. I don't really deserve it."

Francis's smile grew, like he had received his answer. "I figured."

"Alfred!"

Alfred jumped and then winced when he saw Arthur across the lobby, looking archly at the wall. "Come convene with your counsel, please," He said formally, giving Francis a reluctant nod.

Francis reached out, squeezing Alfred by the shoulder and leaning in close. "It was a pleasure seeing you in court, Alfred. I look forward to seeing you again sometime soon."

Alfred nodded sharply, clenching his fists at his sides. He didn't trust Francis, no matter his defenses of the man before. He was acting way too friendly.

"Arthur," he began as soon as he was near enough, but Arthur interrupted vapidly.

"I want you to look through my notes again, and when you're ready you can explain to me the structure of my argument. And why I chose to structure it that way. I want you to tell me, in your opinion, if there would have been a better way to structure it and why. Or if you think mine is the best way, please explain why that is. From what you remember, I want you to take apart Francis's argument and do the same. You can sit over there." He waved dismissively towards one of the lobby benches.

"But Arthur-

"You wanted to learn, so I'll teach you." Arthur said with the tightest smile yet. He effectively ended conversation by turning to address Mr. Yoo.

Like a boy being punished, Alfred sulked over to the window seat and began placing Arthur's notes in order. He should have just gone with his gut instinct earlier and called Francis a sniveler. He'd fallen out of Arthur's good graces all for a little honesty. Then again, he wasn't sure he had ever been in Arthur's good graces to begin with.

Well, he was definitely out of them now.

As Alfred's flippant attention settled on the notes, he realized that Arthur's argument was masterfully prepared. When he didn't understand the placement of some information, he thought about it and realized that Arthur had been building a pyramid style case all along. One thing led to another, led to another, led to another. And therefore the verdict had to be... It wasn't necessarily true or logical, but it would seem that way to listeners who didn't have much opportunity to mull over Arthur's tactics.

After some time, Arthur wandered over to his window bench, tapping away at his phone in a manner that discouraged Alfred from talking to him.

Finally, he gathered up the courage and asked, "Arthur?"

"I'm busy."

"It's about Francis's argument. I have a question."

Reluctantly, Arthur looked up from his phone. His whole manner exuded caution. Like he didn't quite trust Alfred for whatever reason.

"Yes?"

"What _was_ the structure of Francis's argument?"

To his astonishment, Arthur laughed aloud. The amusement started in his eyes, causing them to glitter so mischievously that he looked much younger than he was. It traveled to touch his lips, dragging the corners to opposites sides of his face. And then Arthur had given in, wrapping an arm briefly around his stomach like he might try to wrangle it in. He laughed.

"What's so funny?" Alfred asked, finding his tone was soft instead of offended. He liked Arthur's laugh. It was rusty from disuse, soft and gentle and insidious. It always got Alfred smiling. He didn't get to hear it often. The courtroom banter or the clients never managed to draw it out of him.

"You're asking me. I asked you. I suppose between the two of us, neither one could figure it out. It must not have been very good." Arthur pressed his lips together in an attempt to stop smiling.

Alfred grinned too. "So this was just an exercise to boost your ego, then? I see." He shook his head. "I do like your argument. Even if it is a hopeless logical fallacy."

"The prosecution did not point that out." Arthur shrugged innocently.

"No, they did not. You make up seem like down, Arthur. I didn't notice until you asked me to think about it. I guess that means you're the one without the case then?"

"Without the logical case. But still, I would say, a very convincing case." Arthur amended, causing Alfred to grin.

"Thanks for bringing me along Arthur."

Arthur shrugged uncomfortably.

"I would like to state something for the record," Alfred continued. Things were about to get experimental.

"Oh would you like me to write that down?" Arthur asked sarcastically, pulling a pen from his jacket. Alfred laughed.

"That won't be necessary. I just wanted to comment on Francis."

Arthur stiffened almost imperceptibly. "Go on."

"He told me that it was unusual for you to bring summer associates to court-

"A fact which you already knew."

"Let me finish," Alfred grinned in exasperation. "And that I must be something special."

"Oh, lovely. He's filling your head with fantasies. Just what I need." Arthur huffed.

Alfred pretended to pout. "Ouch?"

"Did this have a point?"

Alfred leveled Arthur with his best serious face. "Why do you let me do all these things?"

Arthur shrugged. "Why do you think?"

"Objection. Speculation."

"Overruled."

"On what grounds?" Alfred exclaimed.

"We are not in session, and I have perfectly flaunt-able freewill."

Alfred groaned, throwing his head back. "You are the worst, Arthur."

"And he tastes his first defeat. Verdict guilty. The cameras flash."

Alfred groaned again. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing, Mr. Jones? Do you think this loss will impact your employment opportunities? What are your plans in the wake of this development? Did you expect to lose so spectacularly?"

"You're having too much fun with this." Alfred couldn't help but chuckle, eyeing the warm smile that danced just beyond Arthur's lips.

"Losing to that crook Arthur Kirkland," Arthur continued. "Will justice ever recover? How will you survive?"

"Honestly, Mr. Reporter," Alfred played along with the nonsensical arrangement. He couldn't stand to see the disappearance of Arthur's smile. "Arthur Kirkland is a worthy opponent, and I couldn't have picked a better candidate to lose to... Even if his argument is illogical bullshit and he moved to America just so he could win all his cases by flaunting his accent."

"Arthur Kirkland would like it stated on the record that he could win using sign language if he had to, and that his arguments are perfect illogical victories. What the hell difference does it make?" Arthur glanced over his shoulder, failing to hide his widening smile from Alfred's view. Across the room, the prosecution were looking bored as hell, but Alfred had never had so much fun waiting around before.

Alfred snorted. "Arthur Kirkland doesn't get a say. This is my interview."

Before Arthur could respond to that, an aide was sent out to usher them back into the courtroom. The jury had reached a verdict. They all settled into their seats. The air in the room was heavy with tension. Arthur and Francis seemed to be the only ones unaffected. Glancing at each other and then turning their scrutiny on the jury members.

Just before the spokesperson announced the verdict, Arthur relaxed confidently into his chair and Francis scowled.

"The jury verdict is not guilty on all accounts."

Mr. Yoo's eyes lit up and he reached for Arthur's hand, all but violating the man in an attempt to shake. "Thank you, Mr. Kirkland. Thank you. Thank you."

Arthur smiled impatiently, although Mr. Yoo didn't notice the stiffness of it. Alfred got the sudden feeling that he was the only one who could see it. Francis apologized to a very angry client, all the while shooting dagger looks at the celebrating defense. At Arthur particularly, like by smiling he was gloating. But it wasn't Arthur's real smile, not even close.

Alfred had to wait until Mr. Yoo and all of Mr. Yoo's relatives and friends had stopped showering Arthur in praise. By that point, he'd cleared up all their papers and organized them in Arthur's briefcase. He'd finished an entire bottle of soda from the vending machine and disposed of it in the urinal. When he emerged, he found Arthur alone in the lobby, looking mildly irritated.

"Where did you go?"

"Bathroom. Congratulations, by the way. If you're not sick of hearing it."

Arthur blinked. "Why would I get sick of hearing that?"

Alfred wondered if he should try and explain how Arthur's smile had seemed so put-upon compared to their ribbing in the lobby before. Instead, he grinned. "Well, you hear it so much."

"It is not something you get sick of hearing, I assure you." Arthur retorted with a shadow of his real smile.

"Well, you were right," Alfred said, falling into step beside him as they exited the courthouse. "Your illogical argument tricked the jury and you won. How's it feel to defend the bad guys?"

"My client needed a strong defense. I was the solution." Arthur shot back in amusement.

"Who's your client?" Alfred responded and they caught each other's eyes for just a second, pleased to have got each other's references.

"Hey, I wanted to ask?" Alfred continued, once they had walked in silence for awhile.

"Mhmm?"

"How did you know the verdict?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows incredulously.

Alfred shook his head. "Not like that. I saw you. You knew the verdict before they said it."

"Oh that." Arthur shrugged. "It just takes practice. Most often jury members won't look at the defendant if they're convicting him."

"Huh." Alfred tilted his head. "I'll look for that next time."

"Next time?" Arthur raised one eyebrow.

"I'm being an optimist, okay?" Alfred pouted. "Today didn't go horribly. You won. I learned something. There's no reason not to take me back to court."

"Oh you are hopeless," Arthur snorted. "Come along. There's a bar on 32nd that's worth our time."

Alfred blinked in surprise. "But what about-

"You didn't honestly think I'd be returning to the office after all that. I'm a workaholic, but christ, I'm not trying to kill myself."

Alfred bit his lip, shaking his head. He allowed Arthur to lead him to the very fancy bar on 32nd, filled with similar men in suits. Arthur was obviously a regular, because the bartender knew exactly what to fix him. Alfred, deciding it wise not to drink with his boss, ordered a Coke and started a conversation about torts.

The hour was getting late, and Arthur was growing more talkative with each glass of gin. Alfred tried to be subtle about it, checking his watch, yawning, all sorts of little signals that Arthur should have seen. He was ready to leave. Arthur may be able to keep such a crazy sleep schedule, but Alfred decidedly needed his full eight hours or hell broke loose.

"Well, Arthur," he interrupted a riveting, one-sided conversation on business litigation. "I have to be getting home now."

Arthur blinked. "Oh. Is it... is it late?"

"Well, I have to drive back home and that takes me about an hour. And then work tomorrow and all that." Alfred started to stand, waving the bartender over to pay.

"Oh. I see." Arthur nodded, staring into his empty glass.

"You're leaving?" The bartender seemed surprised to find Alfred on his feet.

"Yes, long day and another long day tomorrow," Alfred smiled, holding out his credit card, but the man didn't take it.

"Does that mean the cab for you as usual?" The bartender turned to Arthur, whose cheeks pinked.

"Yes, thank you for bringing that up in front of my dinner guest." Arthur's voice was missing that snarky sharpness. He just sounded tired now, almost defeated. "I'm going to have a few more first. Goodnight, Alfred."

"I'm sorry. I thought he was with you," the bartender continued, despite Arthur's obvious discomfort.

"You thought wrong," Arthur said frostily, shoving his empty glass forward. "Gin and tonic, please."

"Here. I'll help you pay down here." The bartender waved Alfred towards the end of the bar. Punching in his order and zinging the card.

Alfred reached for it, but the bartender paused before handing it back. "I've never seen you around before."

"I just started working in the city a week or so ago."

"Ah." The bartender relinquished his card. "Sorry about that. Just a misunderstanding. I shoulda known. He always leaves alone."

"Does he come here a lot?"

The bartender shrugged. "Five, six times a week. There are some who come more 'n once a day, though. He ain't the worst. I just had to notice. He never seemed to come in with nobody, and he must pay crazy amounts to the cabbies."

"Well, he has the funds to do it," Alfred replied uncomfortably. "Cheers."

"Cheers." The bartender waved as he slipped out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**So here we get a full chapter from Arthur's POV. Kind of a day in the life sort of thing, but an unusual one? Something like that, haha. (And I'm supposed to be good with words...:P)**

 **Thank you for all of your lovely support. As I've said before, the legal situations in this may or may not be possible. This comes into play later when I take a little creative license with the term pro bono. Just wanted to say that again.**

 **Much love, doze**

* * *

Arthur woke grouchily the next day in the throes of a splendid hangover. His alarm clock flashing 6 a.m. He got to his feet, made it to the toilet, and the rest was history. He had another court case today, and under normal conditions he wouldn't have bothered getting out of bed until nine. But he had gotten no work accomplished last night, having given into his desire for a few shots of something strong, and then woken up with his face smashed into the kitchen floor some ungodly hour in the middle of the night.

It had been a bad idea to take Alfred to the bar, a terrible idea. Even though all his other memories had gone fuzzy, he could still recall the bartender embarrassing him in crystal clarity. If he had more free time on his hands, he would search for a new establishment for his drinking needs.

It had just been a very long time since Arthur had worked in counsel with anybody. Not that Alfred could really be considered counsel; he wasn't an actual lawyer, nor had he done anything remotely useful at the courtroom. Still, strangely enough, his company wasn't unwelcome. Arthur thought guiltily that maybe he just liked having Alfred around for the ego stroking. But surely he had enough of that from the clients? He couldn't possibly be so warped that he required a personal pet ego stroker, could he?

Arthur picked out one of his pinstriped suits, with a nice navy green tie that brought out the darker shades in his eyes. The suit was brown and rather unconventional for him. It verged on 'attempting to be stylish'. His loafers, supple brown leather and worn soles, were familiar enough to give him confidence, though.

He fiddled fruitlessly with his hair for some minutes, before giving it up as a lost cause. Then he made his way down the couple blocks to the office.

It was nice living so close to where he worked. Work was never far, both physically and mentally. He couldn't recall the last time he took a real vacation. There never seemed to be a good time, and there was nowhere he really wanted to go, anyway. The beach house would be just as empty as the city flat, after all.

Arthur nodded to the receptionist on the first floor, keeping his head down. He'd learned over the years that she was terribly observant, and would comment if she saw the telltale bags under his eyes that betrayed his late night drinking. Easily, he could scare her off, but it took effort. He couldn't be the only lawyer on a first name basis with his bartender.

In the lift, he slouched against the wall, rubbing his temples. Many a time, he had thought about starting his own office so that he could do things his own way. In boxers with a bottle of whiskey if he wanted to.

The lift doors glided open on the 37th floor of the Plaza and Arthur greeted Marlene with his smarmiest grin. She just shook her head, but apparently had nothing to say regarding Alfred. He had almost hoped she would berate him again, just so he could get into with somebody.

See, the true and very much denied reason that Arthur Kirkland had never started an independent practice was this: He hardly had any normal human interaction as it was, and the only place he'd found anything remotely close was at Thompson Lang, at the office.

For better or for worse, Arthur was a loner with no plans to change it. His personality wasn't one that encouraged small talk, and it had honestly taken him years to get Marlene to say more to him than "You have three missed calls.", "Are those billable hours?", "Should I add that to your calendar?".

His summer associates hadn't been any better. They were too frightened of him for conversation or too in love with the idea of his salary for him to bear. Against general opinion, Arthur did not have to host summer associates. In fact, he wasn't even sure why he participated in the godforsaken program after his experiences.

He rounded the corner and came across Alfred, crouched at his little desk, gnawing up the end of a pen as he read something on his computer.

At first, Alfred was just like the others. Skittish. Stupid. And Uninteresting. Arthur had withdrawn from him in a bad mood, dreading another mock-up babysitting experience. But then... well, he wasn't really sure how it had happened. His mood started to lift when he anticipated getting to the office. His palms would get sweaty. He'd switch his briefcase from hand to hand, and god if Alfred didn't perform some kind of voodoo to get him to smile at 8:00 a.m. beginning of the work week.

Once Alfred had found his footing, he was his own force to be reckoned with, bumbling smile and all. It was difficult to hate someone so resemblant of a puppy dog.

He didn't intend to let Alfred know anything was awry. But Arthur treated Alfred differently from the other summer associates because Alfred was different. Simply that.

It took Alfred a minute to notice someone was watching him. When he did, he glanced up and grinned. "Hullo Arthur," he chirped. "Guess I made it into the office before you today, didn't I?"

"One in a million." Arthur replied, watching Alfred's smile grow wider. It still confused him that Alfred almost always was genuinely happy to see him. Even Marlene couldn't say that.

"Yeah, but I'll relish it." Alfred made a fist like he was capturing the day in his hands. He tilted his head to the side. (Puppy dog all over again.) "Are you going to court today?"

"I'm afraid so. And before you ask, no, you can't come."

Alfred pouted. "Crush my dreams, why don'tcha? Anything you need from me?"

"Peace and quiet."

Alfred snorted. "We both know that's an impossibility at this point. This is me we're talking about!"

"I'm always asking you for the impossible," Arthur reached reluctantly for his office door. It was just so easy, talking with Alfred. It had been a mistake bringing him to the bar, but quite possibly a mistake he would endeavor to make again. Call him pathetic, but it was nice talking about whatever so freely.

He entered his office, letting the door close quietly behind him. The morning sun slanted through the blinds, drifting across his couch, sprawling over his bookcases, and glinting off his model ships. In his collection that had matched so perfectly just days ago were two new specimens. His boyhood prize and the starter of his obsession winked coyly at him, small and tacky. And Alfred's gift ship, beaten and marked, glimmered beside it. Overall the table, in fact the office, felt much fuller.

Arthur set to work, resigned that it wouldn't be his best material. His mind was all over the place, and he couldn't care less about Mr. Heighn's latest white collar crime. No matter how many dividends it paid.

Even money had gotten to be a tiresome subject for Arthur. He didn't honestly know what to do with it anymore. Living in the city was frightfully expensive, but Arthur's services were frightfully expensive as well. He came off every year with a bigger bank account and had vague plans to do something spectacular for his retirement in another thirty years. But that was about it.

It had used to be so important to him, but now, well... He was practically set for life. The only reason he was doing this job was greed or maybe boredom. When Alfred had asked, it had annoyed him so much that he'd answered sharply. Truthfully, he wasn't sure why he was a defense attorney. Not anymore.

A knock interrupted him from his philosophical mongering. "Yes?"

"Arthur?" Alfred put his head around the corner, looking annoyed. "Sorry. Do you think you could help me with something really fast? It's okay if you're busy."

Arthur blinked. "What's going on?"

Alfred scowled, an unnatural expression on his features. "Mr. Bonnefoy is harassing me. I'd appreciate if you'd talk with him to get him off my back."

That was all he had to say. In hindsight, Arthur reflected that Alfred probably chose his words strategically. But in the moment, he was already shoving Alfred out of the doorway.

"Ah, Arthur, I was hoping to speak with you." Francis smiled widely at him from his spot perched on Alfred's desk.

"You felt the need to harass my associate, it was that important to you?"

Francis merely shrugged and began walking away. Arthur wasn't through with him, and went charging behind.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "You have not scheduled an appointment and I refuse to waste anymore time with you."

He and Francis had a particular history. A particularly terrible history.

"Calm down, Arthur," Francis drawled, rolling his eyes. He settled on a waiting room couch dramatically. "I merely came to present an offer."

Arthur blinked, running through his list of active case. None of them involved Francis, or settlement offers with the DA. "What are you talking about?"

"Your boy." Francis waved a hand back towards Arthur's office. "I have a place for him this summer."

Arthur's eyebrows disappeared in his fringe. "You came to steal my summer associate for the DA's office. What kind of offer is this? Leave, Francis."

Francis scowled, "He wouldn't have to stop working here. You hardly need him all the time. He was playing Flappy Bird over there last I checked. Tremendous waste of talent in my opinion."

Arthur bristled. "No, I'm not considering this."

"I was afraid you would say that. Then I will just have to propose to Alfred. I am sure I could tempt him with some real law work."

"No!" Arthur said too quickly, flinching as he gave away his cards. He was a better actor than this, but Francis's whole proposition had caught him off guard.

Francis smirked. "Attached to this one?"

"It's a matter of principle, frog. I wouldn't expect you to understand, as you have no principles. You can't just march in here and proposition my associate, alright? Are you telling me the DA's office can't find other young guppies to do their grunt work?"

"You're depriving him an opportunity, Arthur," Francis pointed out. "Imagine what kind of doors it would open on his resume. Working here and the DA's office. He could almost get hired anywhere after law school."

"That's irrelevant," Arthur growled, clenching his fists. Alfred would get on just fine with Arthur's recommendation alone. He didn't need to be galavanting across the city, working for the DA as well.

"Is it? Why don't we ask him then?" Francis played lightly with a pedal of one of the fake waiting room flowers.

Arthur felt his body go rigid, teeth clenching. He hated being backed into corners.

"What's the matter? Think he won't want to stick around anymore? Your friendship and lovely disposition aren't enough for him?" Francis stood up, but Arthur cut him off before he could continue down the hall.

Francis raised an eyebrow.

"If you must know," Arthur said, feeling vastly uncomfortable with the whole business. He had to force himself not to play with the buttons of his jacket. "I have not had a summer associate as... eager and competent as Alfred in quite some time. I see no reason why you should take that away."

Francis nodded, putting a hand to his chin. Like he was bothering to consider Arthur's argument. That would be a first. "Yes, yes, I see what you mean, Arthur. But the person you're describing is just what the DA's office is seeking in temp associates, so..."

Arthur scowled, losing his patience. "You're doing this to mess with me. Don't you have anything better to to do?"

"The DA's office is always on the lookout for talented-

"Oh spare me the shit," Arthur snapped. "Get out. Now. The answer is no."

Francis was unimpressed, and for a moment Arthur was certain he'd fight it. But then he shrugged, "Let's hope Alfred doesn't find out you've taken away his choice from him. The inimitable Arthur gets greedy with his new toy. I shouldn't have expected more."

He strode out, before Arthur could think of what to say. Infuriated by the whole incident, Arthur stalked back to his office for his things, slamming the door. Work to be done and all that fucking jazz. God, he wished he was facing Francis in court today. That greasy, cheating frog would wish he'd never been born.

"Arthur?"

Alfred's hesitant voice stopped him before he could reach the lift.

Irrationally, Arthur's heart rate spiked. Perhaps Francis had already gotten a word into Alfred. He looked back to his summer associate. Alfred's phone was discarded and he leaned forward with a furrow between his eyebrows.

"Are you okay, Arthur?"

The question surprised him, and he took a moment to judge Alfred's sincerity. Was Alfred just looking for a segue into asking about Francis? What other motive would he have? He couldn't possibly be _concerned._

Yet Alfred's blue eyes were wide enough and innocent enough.. Oh, it would be a nasty trick in court if he learned how to harness that. Juries would melt for him.

"I'm... fine." He said with a soft sigh.

Alfred cocked his head, sighing too. "I hate ruining your day."

"Excuse me?"

Alfred just shrugged. "I shoulda sent Francis away. I almost did, but he was so insistent." Alfred's gaze hardened in annoyance. "And he wouldn't get his ass off my desk."

"I said I was fine, Alfred."

"And you think I can't tell when you're lying?"

Arthur wanted to smack him over the head for such an impertinent statement, but he was running out of time. "I have to leave. Tell any client callers that I am in court."

"Will do. And Arthur?"

" _What?"_

Alfred just grinned at his exasperated air. He was getting much too comfortable. "Catch."

Arthur reacted without thinking, his fingers curling around a small, red paper square. "Twinings?"

"For later." Alfred winked and then laughed at what must have been the expression on Arthur's face.

Nonetheless, he tucked the teabag into his jacket pocket, adjusting his tie.

"Is that a new suit?" Alfred seemed really just intent on making him late.

"No, it's an old suit that I haven't worn recently." Arthur answered, cursing himself to hell and back because he was just as bad. Letting Alfred make him late.

"Oh." Alfred paused for an indefinite period of time. "I like it."

Flattery? To get him another day in court? Alfred may not have realized it, but Arthur had decided to bring Alfred back to court while they were still _in_ court yesterday.

"I don't believe I asked for your opinion, Jones," he said stuffily.

Alfred threw his head back, spinning his office chair around. "It was a compliment, Arthur. Free of charge. I know you don't have the word 'free' in your vocabulary, but try to imagine it."

"I'm leaving," he said, feigning irritation.

"Go on. Leave." Alfred joked without any fear in the world. "You'll be back."

"However unfortunate, you are right. I'll be back."

"Unfortunate for who?" He heard Alfred mutter, but it had to be a trick of the acoustics.

0 0 0

It was just one of those days in the courthouse. Arthur's case dragged on and on. He actually fell asleep during the prosecution's opening argument. Luckily, his client was too anxious to notice and the prosecutor was too in love with his own voice to see anybody else. Arthur knew it was shacking up to be a terrible day, when he wasn't even sure what he'd said for his own opening argument. Pointing and talking loudly and making demanding gestures. Frowning till his face froze that way. The theatrics were there, but he was on autopilot.

Around lunchtime, the judge called a recess and Arthur wandered off as far away as he could get from Mr. Heighn the walking Ken doll. As usual, he had nobody to talk to. There were restaurants only a block away, but he didn't feel like sitting at a table by himself. He unfastened the button of his jacket, preparing to sit in the lobby and attempt to get some work done. His fingers brushed the tiny square bag in his pocket, and he paused halfway to sitting.

You know, he might do with a cup of tea. There had to be a place to get hot water around here.

It took Arthur a bit of searching, but he eventually found a dumpy kitchenette near the judges' quarters. Helped himself to the 2 percent in the fridge and the sugar bowl on the counter. With movements efficient from use, Arthur made himself a cup of Twinings and leaned against the counter to enjoy it.

The murky scent of black tea always did work wonders for him. Loosening the knots in his shoulders and even sometimes bringing a smile to his lips.

He found himself thinking it was terribly ironic. Today's case was going horribly- horribly enough that he might lose. He was in a bad mood. The sky was overcast, threatening to storm. And yet here he was, enjoying his tea. All the more proof that, in the span of a day, Alfred had become the only good thing about court.

With some reluctance, Arthur downed the last dregs of his tea.

Perhaps he shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss Francis earlier. The last thing he wanted was to share his associate with the DA's office. But... who was he to dictate what Alfred should and shouldn't do? It if had been him as a young law student many years ago, he would have resented the interference beyond measure. He would have walked out immediately to join the DA's office just to spite his employer for meddling.

Arthur felt his phone buzzing- the alarm to return to the courtroom. He placed his glass in the sink and drew up his court persona. Enough distractions.

0 0 0

Half sick with hunger, Arthur dragged himself away from a furious Mr. Heighn. It had been close. His cases were always close. But close only counted in horseshoes. And that extra 2 million to line his pockets had disappeared like the sweet smell of flowers on a summer breeze.

He ought to get something to eat. All around him the world danced with black spots. He hadn't had anything but a cup of tea all day, and he was really beginning to feel it. Whether it be force of habit or his sluggish brain, he ended up at the bar on 32nd. Once he realized it, he was too tired to head anywhere else.

The bartender supplied him with his usual sans questions. Arthur was almost too stupid to drink it, dropping his cheek to the bar unprofessionally. Oh, it just made it worse. He _hated_ losing. And he _hated_ Francis. It was simply too much hatred for one day.

"Hey, you're back." Arthur heard the bartender's thundery voice bounce strangely over the wood. Outside, it had started to rain. As the evening crowd swept in, gusts of wind and water accompanied them.

"I am back. Can I getta Coke?"

"You don't drink?"

"Not tonight."

Arthur frowned groggily as the place got louder. At least the bartender was occupied. He tended to hover and bug Arthur otherwise.

"You guys sell burgers?"

"Just appetizers."

"Fries?"

"Of course. Anything else?"

"Nope. Biggest basket you have should be good. I'll be over there."

"Yeah, your friend's having a bad one today."

"Arthur?"

He wasn't even drunk, but it took Arthur a minute to realize that someone had said his name. He raised his head off the counter, praying to whatever existed that it wasn't the damned prosecution. He had had that experience before, drinking to their victory and his loss, faking smiles all night. It was terrible.

"It's Alfred." Alfred announced himself unnecessarily. His tie was loose, drooping around his neck, and his white shirt was coming untucked. His suit jacket was splattered with little dark spots from the rain. His smile glimmered neon white. "Mind if I join you?"

Arthur struggled for an eloquent way to say he did mine. He was going to get plastered, and Alfred didn't need to see that. Last night would look like fine dining in comparison.

"Yes." He grunted. "I mind."

"Too bad. We are not in session and I have flaunt-able freewill." Alfred settled in the barstool beside him. Arthur really hated it when Alfred decided to be clever.

Arthur sighed, dropping his face in his hands and rubbing at his temples. "Well, I won't be much for company. I'm going to get outrageously pissed."

"Responsibly."

"What?"

"You're going to get outrageously pissed responsibly." Alfred perked up goofily when his basket of fries arrived. "But first, tell me what happened."

"I..." Arthur felt like his brain was failing him. He was supposed to be good at witty comebacks, but Alfred was here? Again? Of his own freewill? He couldn't escape fast enough the other day.

"Is this the losing routine?" Alfred interjected when Arthur was not forthcoming. "Here, have some of my fries. It's healthier."

"Fries are not healthier." Arthur said. It was all he could think to say, propping his head up with his fist.

"Healthier than drinking on an empty stomach," Alfred retorted, nearly knocking over Arthur's whiskey as he shared the basket.

Arthur grumbled curses at him, but his hunger got the better of him and he accepted a few fries, which became ten, which became... more than ten. He could feel the heat of Alfred radiating at his side, driving away the cool and the damp. Alfred bantered with the bartender for a little while, giving him time to gather his thoughts and realize that he didn't want to gather his thoughts.

Even without the whiskey, he felt warm. The french fries burned his fingers. The salt stung his chapped lips, catching in the corners of them. Every once in awhile, Alfred accidentally brushed his arm as he talked with the bartender, sending shivers cascading down Arthur's spine. He tried to dredge up the awful feeling of a guilty verdict, but even that had faded so much that he hardly noticed it.

The losing routine, indeed.

He would be perfectly alright, if this became the new losing routine. He stole a few sips of Alfred's Coke, because it was the perfect complement to fries. Alfred noticed, but wasn't upset, waving for a second straw.

Even though he didn't really need it at the end of the night, having only two slurps of whiskey, it felt strangely nice to hear Alfred on the phone with the cab service. To act the invalid for now. He had no idea what to say. Recognizing that any of it had happened at all was an embarrassment that he couldn't come back from.

As he stood on the pavement next to Alfred waiting for his cabbie, Alfred broke the silence. "Did you like the Twinings?"

Once again a clever answer eluded him.

Arthur nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "It was lovely."

"Lovely?" Alfred laughed in delight. "Well, if it's that easy to make you happy, what have I been doing all this time?"

Arthur swallowed, shifting from foot to foot. He was stubborn by nature. Of course, he would never share his associate with the DA. It was perfectly in character for him. He didn't need another excuse.

But the true and much denied reason was this: He didn't know what he would do if Alfred chose Francis over him. He didn't know what he would do if Alfred walked out before the end of August. And as embarrassing as it was to consider: If Alfred had become the best thing about court, it...

Well, it just seemed to Arthur that Alfred wasn't far off being the best thing about everything.


	6. Chapter 6

"Arthur?"

"Mhmm?"

"What about this?" Alfred lugged the large case records book off the floor and dropped it on his desk, causing Arthur's papers to fly everywhere. "Oops. I'll get those."

Arthur rolled his eyes, bending over the thin page and massaging the bridge of his nose. A migraine lurked in the wings, and he dreaded the moment it struck. With luck, it would be after he'd finished writing his closing argument for this next case. Alfred had been invited to "assist" him, but as of yet hadn't had much luck with the case records. Arthur enjoyed ribbing at him, but in truth the case records were always a hit and miss unless you had unlimited time on your hands.

"Which is it?" He asked as Alfred scrambled on the floor, scrounging up the scattered papers.

" _Drudson v. State_. An assault case."

"Mhmp." Arthur didn't answer, scanning the details over and comparing them with those of his current case. It could work. It might take a bit of bending, but the verdict could definitely be construed in his favor. "Try again," he said, but scrawled it down in the margins of his argument, along with a couple others of Alfred's rejected efforts.

"You're so hard to please," Alfred whined good-naturedly. Accepting the book back without a fight. Overall, he certainly wasn't as upset as last time. He settled down in the sun of Arthur's client couch, humming to himself.

"You're in a good mood," Arthur commented, because it was better than reliving the details of another assault case at the moment.

"It's the environs," Alfred said without looking up. "My social and my comfort are up."

"Your social?"

"You know, like the Sims."

"The what?"

"Never mind." Alfred glanced up slyly. "Don't you have an argument to write, attorney Kirkland?"

"I will kick you out, Alfred."

Alfred pouted, but returned to his book. "Am I going to see this one in court?"

"Depends on your good behavior until then."

"I'm always good."

Arthur only grunted in response, which caused Alfred to laugh. They fell into a companionable silence, broken only by the rustle of Alfred's pages or the clack of Arthur's keyboard. He tried not to, but he found his eyes were often on Alfred, so out of place. Arthur was used to working alone, but working with Alfred in the room wasn't awful like he expected.

Although he didn't work as fast, splitting his time between conversation, looking at Alfred without him realizing, and actually writing. The distraction wasn't unwelcome. Alfred was decidedly nice to look at. Of course, he wouldn't attest to such a fact on his deathbed, sworn in on the Bible or otherwise. But in the privacy of his own thoughts, he admitted to himself that Alfred had very nice eyes and skin. The particular shade of blue was dark and lightened when he stepped outside. He used to be tanner, but hours indoors had stripped away most of the sun's influence. Even so, his skin was clear and soft-looking.

He was taller than Arthur and built thicker. The way Alfred ate, he probably should have been husky, but the only roundness Arthur could discern was a touch on his cheeks. Not that he had much opportunity to notice it elsewhere. The only skin he had to work with was that of Alfred's face and hands. Suits, in spite of all their attributes, could never be revealing.

Arthur found himself zoning out as he stared at his Word document. Imagining that he had the power to impact dress code decisions. Perhaps he'd changed the associate's wardrobe to something more... summer suitable.

It was embarrassing how long he stared at nothing, his fantasy growing vivid enough that it included dialogue and texture. He didn't even realize he was doing it until Alfred dropped one of the case record books with an almighty thud.

Arthur jumped so high that Alfred noticed it, glancing at him quizzically. "Really focused, huh?" He said, referring to Arthur's Word document.

"Yeah," Arthur said, referring to something entirely different. His voice was a pitch too high and he cleared his throat. This was getting out of hand.

Sternly, he drew up his keyboard and forced himself to type the next sentences. For the few moments he could manage it, he pretended that Alfred wasn't in the room.

"What about this?" Alfred interrupted him the minute he had got into a rhythm and he sighed through his nose.

"What?"

Alfred brought the book up, setting it in front of him and leaning forward. " _Perenabb v. State._ I think that..."

But the rest of his words were unintelligible to Arthur who flinched reflexively backward as Alfred's shoulder pressed into his. Alfred didn't notice, kept talking, pointing out the passages in the book. When he was finished, he glanced up expectantly.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, his head throbbing. "Could you say that again? I missed it."

Alfred raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Are you okay, Arthur? You look a little pale."

"Yes, yes," Arthur said faintly. "I'm alright. What were you saying?"

Alfred frowned, leaning back. "Are you sure? You don't look okay."

"It's just the weather changing. It gives me migraines sometimes." Arthur explained dismissively. It definitely wasn't just the weather, but it was an apt excuse.

Alfred's concern sent a thrill of... something through him. His heart skipping a beat, painfully.

"Do you ever not work 3 a.m. to 10 p.m., Arthur?"

"Ha ha," he said, waving impatiently at the book. "Explain what you were saying."

"I'm serious," Alfred said, meeting his gaze.

"I don't see how it's any of your business." Arthur responded coolly.

Flinching, Alfred backed down. "Okay, you're right. But that isn't going to stop me from being concerned."

"Why would you be concerned?" Arthur asked archly.

Alfred frowned. "Well, I don't want you to get hurt!"

"Alfred, I hardly think losing a few hours of sleep here and there is going to kill me. I've been doing it for years."

"Sleep studies show that damage is cumulative." Alfred shot back. "Getting less than seven hours of sleep every night is terrible for the body's natural-

"Very well. I did not expect you to start spitting research at me," Arthur conceded sourly. "You'll be an attorney yet."

Alfred looked unhappy with this response, crossing his arms. "You don't usually take lunch breaks either."

"Well, since all I do is sit around all day, I imagine it evens out."

"That's not how anatomy works."

"Do you really want to start an argument about this, Alfred?" Arthur snapped. "Because you will lose."

Alfred stuck his chin out stubbornly. "You don't live with anyone, do you?"

The question was so deeply personal and so out of left field that it caught Arthur completely off guard. " _Excuse me?_ "

Realizing how his question could be taken, Alfred quickly tried to backtrack. "I meant that it's no wonder you're so off schedule because I have roommate and he's always helped keep me on sche-

"I believe you are done talking." Arthur interrupted him icily. "Good evening, Alfred. You are free to go."

Alfred's mouth hung open, before he scowled. "Fine. I'm sorry, sir." Curt and quick, he exited, closing the door a little too loudly behind him.

Arthur sat for a moment, expecting the fury to overwhelm him any second. Upon careful reflection, he realized that he was not as angry as he'd thought. Alfred had asked him a personal question and been incredibly intrusive about his daily habits, but Alfred didn't ask questions the way someone like Francis asked questions. He wasn't collecting answers for later use. He just... cared. For whatever bizarre misguided reason.

Arthur fiddled quietly with the end of his tie, already regretting the way he handled the situation. What if he had just answered the question? Would the universe have cracked? Would hell have broken loose? Would it really have been so terrible?

It was no wonder he didn't get close to people. He couldn't let them past the threshold.

There was a very strong line between Arthur's private life and Arthur's business life. Considering most of the people he came into contact with were on the business side, they stayed on the business side. If he was being honest, he didn't think there was much to say about his personal life. All his accomplishments had been on the business side of things. His personal life leased its own quiet corner in a building owned outright by his time-consuming and wildly successful career. Sometimes he simply forgot his personal life was there, huddled in the corner as it was. Playing with model ships and English tea brands, not a peep louder than the sound it took to glance over at the collection of models on his table. While other peoples' personal lives frequently got in the way of their jobs, Arthur's slept in the corner and faded in with the wallpaper. There wasn't much to say about it.

Despite this, Arthur did keep those few things sacred. Not many had reason to ask after his personal life, but most would find if they did, an answer as vague and undefined as territorial ocean borders. He never entertained guests or clients at his flat, though it was always tidy enough. He doubted anybody in the office knew his favorite brand of wine. And the past three years' Christmases, he'd spent here, hunched over his laptop into the wee hours of the morning. While his holiday hours perished to billable hours.

Work life balance was a gag phrase to him. Work was his life and had been for so long he couldn't imagine doing things another way. But Alfred came in Monday through Friday and at five o'clock he shed all his worries for whatever mysterious and unknowable private life he entertained. Arthur went to bed thinking about work and woke up thinking about work. What would he think about otherwise?

Yet he was having a very hard time concentrating on work these days.

Arthur massaged at his temples, before abruptly coming to a decision. He was going home for the day. He was exhausted. He had a headache. And he hadn't left the office early in ages.

He gathered up his things as one determined and flung open his office door to find Alfred still at his desk.

"Where are you going?" Alfred asked, dumbfounded.

"Why are you still here?" Arthur responded.

Alfred shrugged. "Waiting for you to cool off enough so that I could apologize... I'm sorry."

"What for?"

Alfred winced, "For saying things that were none of my business. I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended." Arthur brushed his apology aside, pleased to have it either way. An idea occurred to him that made his dead heart flip. A crazy idea, an impulsive idea. When was the last time he had been impulsive? "Alfred?"

"Yeah?" Maybe he was imagining Alfred's hopeful expression, wishful thinking.

"Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?"

A million rejections whistled through Arthur's mind so fast they made him dizzy. A million ways this could be taken wrongly. A million ways it could end in disaster.

Alfred beamed. "Of course. Are you going now?"

0 0 0

"I thought we could just pick something up and have it at my place," Arthur said, switching his briefcase to his other hand nervously. He and Alfred walked together down the sidewalk outside Thompson Lang. The sun was just setting, sparkling blindingly off the building sides.

"Chinese?" Alfred asked.

"If that's what you want."

"It is." Alfred grinned. "Will I get to see more of your ships?"

Arthur nodded hesitantly. "If that's what you want."

"It is." Alfred replied again.

They fell into silence, and Arthur worried that it was awkward. What was he doing? He was terrible in small talk situations. And this was vastly uncalled for. He tried to calm himself down, but the migraine wasn't helping. Everything was too bright and too raw. He had just done something incredibly stupid.

"Thanks for inviting me, Arthur," Alfred chimed in, his blue eyes serious.

"My pleasure," Arthur murmured.

"You're acting more formal than usual," Alfred commented to his horror. "Am I the first associate you've had to dinner?"

"No," Arthur lied and then exhaled. "To be honest, I think I need a drink."

Alfred grinned, "Well, that's no problem." He paused for barely a half second before moving onto a new topic, leaving Arthur's head pulsing. "Arthur, why _did_ you come to America?"

"To practice law."

"No duh. But why not practice law in England? Not high enough dividends?" Alfred made a teasing face.

"Partially. I'm not entirely sure. I'd wanted to visit America for a very long time. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Don't you miss England?"

"I haven't thought about it in quite some time. There's only so much space in my head, and the majority of it is filled with casework." _And recently you._ Arthur added wryly to himself.

"Well, you're a law genius. I'm sorry for my, uh, lack of knowledge. I don't really pay attention to salary all that much. But you're young to, uh, to be-

"Doing so well," Arthur filled in dryly. "You wouldn't be wrong to make that inference."

"How old are you?" Alfred asked tactlessly.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "What significance could that information possibly have to you?"

"You know how old I am."

"Irrelevant. And I don't actually."

Alfred held the door of the Chinese restaurant open for him, trying to hide the fact that he was all but drooling. "It's on my papers."

"It may come as a shock to you, Alfred, but I don't spend all my free time casing my associates." Arthur scanned the menu overhead, while Alfred shifted antsy to his right. When Arthur looked over, Alfred tapped the cashew chicken with his fingertip and a hopeful smile. Arthur rolled his eyes. "When you're paying, you can pick." Nonetheless, he tacked it on to double his usual order. He didn't trust Alfred to save him any of his favorites, so better safe than sorry.

"I could be fourteen for all you know," Alfred said, continuing their conversation as they made their way to Arthur's flat.

"Are you?"

Alfred scowled, "No, but I could be."

"Fine, Alfred." Arthur stopped outside the door of his flat, shoving Chinese food into Alfred's chest while he fished for the key. "Since you seem so anxious to tell me, how old are you?"

"I wouldn't say anxious," Alfred muttered, for once sounding embarrassed. "You know I can find your age on the internet if you won't tell me."

"You can find a lot on the internet," Arthur commented cheerfully. "But I'll bet you can't find that. I have been extraordinarily careful to leave no traces."

"It's like you were waiting for the day some nosy associate walked into your life." Alfred laughed, coming to an abrupt halt in Arthur's entryway. "Wow, your flat is so nice."

"What do you think I did with my money?"

Alfred turned back to grin at him, before bouncing happily along to set the takeaway bag on the kitchen counter. Although Arthur was trying hard not to show it, he found himself nervously watching Alfred as the man took everything in. Alfred couldn't possibly know he was the first guest in years.

His blue eyes flittered over the granite countertops and Arthur's never-used appliances. There weren't many decorations. The dark wood floors gleamed seamlessly as they stretched from room to room. He didn't have a dining table, but then he was rarely home for dinner. Alfred didn't mind at all, settling in Arthur's embarrassingly dusty living room. And Arthur was thanking his lucky stars he still paid for cable, because it gave them some buffer.

He didn't try to speak to Alfred, too focused on Alfred's reactions. Alfred's eyes stayed for a long time on his towering bookshelves. His reading chair was the only unsophisticated bit of furniture in the room, bought with comfort in mind. Arthur shifted on the couch, wondering why he hadn't considered comfort when purchasing it as well.

"Those aren't all law books," Alfred commented after a minute, spearing a cashew with delight.

Arthur shrugged. "There's quite a variety of subjects scattered about."

"What kinds of things do you like to read?"

"I don't see why you would care to know." He replied stiffly.

Alfred frowned, sighed, and glanced down. "Does there have to be a reason?"

"A reason?"

"Does there have to be a reason every time I want to know something?"

"You're telling me there isn't a reason?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Not one you would understand," Alfred grumbled, shoving a large piece of chicken into his cheek.

Arthur scowled, "What does that mean?"

Alfred laughed. "I want to know because I want to get to know you. You couldn't pick that up with your legendary lawyering prowess?"

"Why?" Arthur asked flatly. His migraine had receded, but he could feel it returning with a vengeance.

"Why do I want to get to know you?" Alfred asked in exasperation. "Is there an application for it? I just want to. That's the answer."

"That is not the answer," Arthur said in frustration. "It is not that simple. Associates want to get to know me for benefits. Attorneys want to get to know me for court tricks. Hell, I would reckon Marlene pays attention just so she knows what buttons to push and when. Answers are never that simple, Alfred."

Alfred actually looked hurt- hurt enough that he set his plate down. "Who do you think I am, Arthur? I didn't even expect to get hired at Thompson Lang. I don't have... grand plans or anything. I like getting to know people. I was hoping that you wanted to get to know me, too. But I guess that wouldn't make sense." His voice turned hard. "What could you possibly get out of making friends with your law school associate?"

Arthur's mouth nearly fell open. The tables were getting turned and he didn't like it one bit. "Stop being melodramatic," Arthur growled. "There are plenty of reasons."

"Oh yeah. Name a few."

"Okay," Arthur clutched his plate a little tighter, searching for good fake reasons. The real reason wasn't seeing the light of day for another ten eternities. "I have some stake in your future now that you've come to work at my firm. Whether you do well or not has some reflection on my abilities, and I'd prefer it was a good reflection. This way I can.. learn what motivates you better. The office dynamic will be... better."

"Oh my god." Alfred got to his feet abruptly. "You really do have reasons. I swear, you have reasons for everything. Shame on me for thinking we were talking just to talk. There's nothing to figure out, Arthur. The office dynamic already works. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alfred." Arthur stood too, fiddling uncomfortably with the end of his tie. "Please, I didn't mean it like that. Of course... of course, I like talking to you. You really think I wouldn't after all this?"

"And why do you like talking to me, Arthur?" Alfred asked acidly. "What's the super special reason?"

"There isn't one. Not really." Arthur sighed. "I know what you mean. You just... You have to understand. People don't get to know me. I'm not like that. I'm not always so forthcoming."

"That's an understatement," Alfred said flatly, before taking pity on Arthur's discomfort, and smiling. "I'd like an apology, and then we might be able to talk about a settlement offer."

A million ways to circumvent the situation presented themselves in Arthur's mind, but for once he let them sit. "I'm sorry, Alfred. Why don't we continue this... getting to know me thing?"

Alfred grinned boyishly. "I agree." He jumped forward, grabbing Arthur by the shoulders and effectively giving him heart failure. Bless Alfred with an inch and he took a mile. "But let's do it over alcohol. I think it'll be more fun."

"That sounds unwise," Arthur said, having to look up quite a bit to meet Alfred's gaze. He could feel Alfred's breath on his face.

Alfred rolled his eyes, "Seriously? After you just said you needed a drink? And you've taken me to the bar before. I think we'll survive."

"Doubtful." Arthur replied with a weak smile.

Alfred grinned back. "And forthwith commences the history of Arthur Kirkland Part 1."

0 0 0

Arthur caved. All it took was a couple of Alfred's smiles and the feel of Alfred's arm brushing against him as he reached for the alcohol from the wine cooler. Alfred was interested. For the simple reason that he wanted to know. He wanted to know about Arthur.

They sat together at his kitchen bar, facing each other. Arthur's largest wine glasses being put to good use. Their knees were smashed together, but Arthur didn't care as he expounded on all the boring details of his years in England to Alfred's appreciative grin. His glass was never empty with Alfred in charge of the bottle. He would have suspected motive, but Alfred was drinking nearly as much. Alfred didn't even bother to bring up Arthur's law career. And it was refreshing pretending that it didn't exist for the moment.

Alfred even managed a miracle and wrangled his age out of him. He wasn't old, although he really wasn't young either. For the longest time, Arthur had kept it under wraps because clients got nervous hiring a younger lawyer no matter his successful track record. Now those days were gone, his status all but legendary in the criminal defense field. No one had any problem with his age, but his hourly rate, well, that was a different story.

"Thirty four," He admitted, and he knew he must be getting drunk because he smiled after he said it.

Alfred grinned too, or really he had never stopped grinning since the conversation started. And it was bloody difficult to resist answering under its force. "Do y'know, Arthur? There are people in law school with me that are that age. What you've accomplished is incredible."

"Are you going to make me guess? How old are you?" Even in this foggy state, he knew alcohol had been a bad idea. He would wake up tomorrow morning with a lawsuit for sexual harassment in all likelihood.

Alfred laughed, ducking his head so that his hair fell over his eyes. "I'm the dancing queen. Young and sweet. Only…" He snorted. "Twenty seven. When I say it like that, I guess it makes me sound old."

"No, it makes you sound like an idiot."

"Arthur, that means a lot coming from you. It isn't like you call just anybody an idiot." Alfred raised an eyebrow with his lips pursed and Arthur couldn't help but laugh.

"The creativity of my insults has certainly degraded over the years. I'm blaming it on the wear and tear of the legal justice system."

Alfred grinned. "Do you ever take vacations?"

"I can't even remember my last one. I must have a full year of vacation days stocked up by this point."

Alfred's expression grew a little more serious as he played with the wine cork. Arthur was astonished to find that between the two of them they'd cleared off the whole bottle. "Do I get any vacation days, Arthur?" His blue eyes glinted with some unreadable emotion.

Arthur snorted. "Not if I have any say." He blushed, realizing how that could sound. (That he wanted Alfred in the office with him, which was the truth, but.)

"I couldn't convince you otherwise?" Alfred asked lightly.

"You'd be very hard-pressed, but I won't discourage the attempt," Arthur reached for a new wine bottle. "What'll you do to convince me? Hmm? Pay for my bar tab? Shine my shoes? Pick up my dry-cleaning? Scones from the bakery?"

Alfred's serious expression faltered when he laughed, but the strange intensity was still in his eyes. "What would make _you_ take a vacation day, Arthur?"

"Circumstances beyond my control." Arthur said wryly, handing Alfred another full glass. "You can't separate me from the office for long. It's like my daemon."

"Demon?"

"Yes, daemon. _The Golden Compass_. Never mind." Yes, he was definitely getting drunk.

Alfred bit his lip. "I'm about to be in my last year of law school."

"I was aware."

"I'm not sure where I want to work yet. The city is really nice, though. Do you like it here?"

"Much more, recently," Arthur flinched after he said it, doing a rather credible impression of deer in the headlights.

Alfred smiled into his lap. "Me too."

Arthur took a long draught of his wine glass, because whatever the alcohol was doing to his hearing he didn't want it to stop.

"Arthur?" Alfred took a deep breath. His hand found its way onto Arthur's knee and he leaned forward.

Arthur raised the glass quickly again, leaning backwards. His fingers tapped a jarring rhythm on the counter. His heart sped up. Alfred was so close now, and it was becoming difficult to…

Gently, Alfred hooked a finger around the wine glass stem, his hand hot against Arthur's. Slowly, Alfred guided the glass back to the counter. When he had got it back down, Alfred reached up and grabbed near the top of Arthur's tie. Arthur froze as he realized what Alfred wanted. That Alfred wanted…

"Arthur?" Alfred met his gaze uncertainly, real fear flickering in the blue depths. "Is this—

But he didn't get the chance to say anything else. Arthur hooked a hand around Alfred's tie and tugged. Their lips crashed together rather inelegantly and Arthur half-slid to his feet, desperate for the pressure and the contact. It was something out of his wildest fantasies when Alfred dropped his hands, resting them gently at Arthur's waist, and kissed back.

Eventually, he had to pull away for air, meeting Alfred's eyes shyly. His mind raced to find all the possible mistakes he had committed in his lapse of judgment.

But then Alfred laughed, warm and rich and admittedly drunk, and said, "God, Arthur, could you do that again?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello guys! Hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving or Thursday whatever you did then! Here's an update.**

 **much love, doze**

* * *

"You're listing to one side."

"I am not."

"You are." Alfred laughed in amusement. "You definitely are."

"I don't think so. You're moving around."

"I'm not!" Alfred squawked, squeezing his arms tighter around Arthur's waist. It took him a second to get Arthur to look at him. Even the alcohol didn't strip all Arthur's embarrassment away, and his cheeks were a ruddy red. But Alfred didn't care. It hadn't occurred to him until today that what he really wanted in life was to make out with his attractive attorney boss, but now that it had happened everything made perfect sense.

He had thought Arthur was acting weird lately and it pleased him to see that Arthur had been thinking about something like this.

"Hold still," Arthur grumbled. Their fourth bottle of wine twinkled in the kitchen lights behind them, clean as a whistle. Although, Alfred was pretty sure Arthur was the one to clean most of it.

"I'm not moving," Alfred crowed, allowing Arthur to grab his cheeks. "You're moving."

"Shut up."

Arthur pressed their lips together, surprisingly gentle for a drunk person.

"Hmm." Alfred broke apart, pressing his cheek to the top of Arthur's head. His blonde hair was even softer to the touch than Alfred imagined. What did he condition with? The essence of fluffy clouds? "So I was asking you about vacation days before we got carried away?"

"Oh, I'm definitely going to need a vacation day after this." Arthur responded, not unkindly. He didn't seem troubled, being smashed against Alfred's chest. His green eyes slipped closed sleepily.

Alfred laughed. "And me?"

"I think you're good. You can go in. Handle the calls. Freestyle a bit."

"Arthur," He groaned, tightening his grip around Arthur's waist.

Arthur chuckled, a breath of a laugh. "Fine. I suppose you can have one day off. This wasn't some long-winded scheme of getting a day off, was it?"

Alfred frowned to hear the genuine worry in Arthur's voice. The guy could be such an idiot. "I asked about a day off because I had plans for a day off."

"Oh." Arthur swallowed, but didn't pull away like Alfred expected. Even disappointing Arthur that little bit was nauseating. He wasn't sure when he had begun catering to Arthur's every emotional whim, but it was a well defined institution by now.

"And since you have a day off too, I figured you could join me." Alfred continued boldly.

Arthur paused for too long before saying, "Oh."

"Is that agreeable?"

"Yes," Arthur sighed and then snorted. "It sounds very agreeable."

"My thoughts exactly," Alfred tipped Arthur's chin up and kissed him again. That was never going to get old. After the first kiss, they had moved slowly. Alfred saw no reason to rush anything. Sex hovered in the wings as a very viable option until Arthur fell asleep against his chest on the couch. The cable droned on in the background, and Alfred shifted uncomfortably. Damn Arthur had the stiffest furniture imaginable.

He ran his fingers through Arthur's hair, marveling at how impossible this would have seemed just hours ago.

Arthur's mouth was open, his wild hair sticking up all of everywhere. This close Alfred could see the dark circles under his eyes, cumulative damage from a successful career. He let his thoughts wander away from him, thinking about how handsome Arthur was. Handsome and charismatic and gay (he had worried about that earlier) and single.

No one lived with Arthur. In fact, it seemed to Alfred that the flat was vigorously unlived in. For whatever reason, Arthur had as little personal touches lying around as possible. His office was more comfortable and lived in than this place. He speculated that Arthur was too busy practicing law to do much else, but surely by now he'd made enough money to take some time off.

Alfred closed his eyes, wondering vaguely if his car would get towed from the lot if he left it there overnight. He didn't have any motivation to get up. He was probably still drunk. And his drive home was an hour long. Looked like Arthur had won himself a houseguest for the night.

He dropped his hand lower, rubbing circles into Arthur's back. Alfred would bet it had been a long time since Arthur had last gone to bed before nine thirty. Alfred had been expecting a little TV watching, some suggestive kissing, and then maybe taking it up to the bedroom for some further exploration. But once they'd settled down on the couch together, it took only moments for Arthur to be out like a light.

It made Alfred smile. That he got this privilege. That he got to see this happening. Arthur was a mystery to the magazines. But Alfred got to see him without the veneer, drooling in his sleep.

Dropping his head back against the arm of the couch, Alfred allowed his eyes to slip closed. Arthur was heavier than a blanket, but he was warmer than one as well. And Alfred wasn't complaining.

0 0 0

The next morning Alfred woke to a face full of sunshine. He blinked groggily and tried to move, only to realize that Arthur was still on top of him. Arthur had apparently been awake awhile, because he propped himself up on Alfred's chest and said, "Are you expecting breakfast?"

"Not right this moment. What time is it?"

"I haven't the foggiest," Arthur said brightly, and Alfred realized that he was smiling, fiddling with one of the buttons of Alfred's shirt.

"Hmm." Alfred made a noise of approval, rubbing his fingers against Arthur's lower back through his thin dress shirt. "Kiss me."

"Is that what you want?"

Alfred matched Arthur's crooked smile. "Why yes it is, Mr. Kirkland."

Hesitating just a second and biting his lip, Arthur then leaned forward and closed the gap. His elbows dug into Alfred's chest uncomfortably, but as Alfred kneaded his head forward, the feel of Arthur's lips drove any distraction away.

"Better?" Arthur asked and Alfred grinned.

"You always make my day much better, Arthur."

Arthur didn't say anything, but he rested his cheek again on Alfred's chest. "I just realized that neither of us phoned Marlene about the vacation day."

Alfred chuckled. "Are you worried she'll get suspicious?"

"I don't care if she does," Arthur said, surprising him. "And I don't really care about the client meetings I had scheduled today or the case work I was going to do. Or the 12,000 dollars of profit you're going to cost me."

"Me?" Alfred sniffed indignantly. "If you didn't want any of this, Arthur, ya coulda said at any point. Don't shoot the messenger boy."

"Oh stop it." Arthur sighed, sounding content. "I said I didn't care, didn't I?"

"Okay, but you always say exactly what you mean?"

Arthur snickered. "Look who's becoming cynical. I've done a number on you."

"Jedi mind tricks." Alfred muttered, but tipped his chin up to kiss Arthur's head. "Are you gunna get up?"

"Later," Arthur's answer was muffled and he sounded sleepy again.

"I feel an obligation to ask under the circumstances. But have you ever done _this_ with your summer associates?"

"Oh all the time," Arthur said dramatically, drumming his fingers lightly against Alfred's palm. "It's my working business plan. I'll sleep with as many summer associates as possible. That way, if I ever face them in court, I have something on them. Or I can use my knowledge for favors. I doubt they would want to refuse me with what I know."

"You are evil." Alfred said blankly. "But we didn't sleep together, so I guess that wouldn't work for me."

"Some quick suggestive lines to Marlene and we've as good as," Arthur retorted with a smirk in his voice.

"Oh god," Alfred said, thinking of the sort of break room gossip the secretaries got up to. "The whole building would know by noon."

Arthur snickered again, before breaking off to yawn. "Have I suitably impressed you with my powers of persuasion?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "You haven't… actually done this with your summer associates, have you?"

Arthur sighed. "I figured you intelligent, but it seems I was mistaken."

"Arthur…"

"Of course, I haven't. I don't have the interest to flirt with bigheaded would-be attorneys driven by ambitions to work the next O.J. Simpson case. And if they had the interest in me, they'd have it for all of a day before I stripped them of their delusions. By the end of the summer, I promise you Alfred, none of my associates want to be anywhere near me."

"That's optimistic," Alfred muttered dryly. "Well, thank you for answering in so many plain words. I know it causes you physical pain to speak without allusions, but my simple mind appreciates it."

"Physical pain," Arthur agreed mildly. "You know, you were the one harassing me about sleep. Are you planning to stop interrogating me soon?"

"But you'll spend your whole day off sleeping!"

"Isn't that what they're for?"

Alfred gave in and laughed. "I can understand why you would say that. Not having a vacation in the last forty years."

"I'm thirty four, Alfred. Not three hundred." He grumbled.

Alfred rolled his eyes again, but said nothing else. Within minutes, Arthur's breathing had evened out again. He wondered if he was going to spend his whole day off pinned by Arthur. Ha. That sounded better than it actually was. This couch was going to have him in the chiropractor's soon enough.

He began tracing patterns on Arthur's back with his finger. To be fair, if he hadn't had a vacation in so many years, he'd probably just want to sleep too.

0 0 0

Arthur woke groggily to the lumping sound of Alfred's heart. He was warm all over, even sweating slightly. Alfred was snoring. Evidently, he'd taken the time to go back to sleep as well. Not that he could have done much else with Arthur on top of him, anyway.

Now that he was awake again, Arthur found that he didn't have much motivation to move. Outside, the sun was high in the sky, splashing his living room in sharp white. He could just see his mobile from here, light flashing. No doubt he had an obscene amount of messages. It was irresponsible of him to just take off like this, but extenuating circumstances had well and truly squashed Arthur's usual dedication.

So he had made a snap decision… and it had ended on the couch with a lot of body-on-body content.

Yes, best possible outcome. Best possible outcome, Arthur decided cheerily.

He propped himself up on his elbows so that he could see Alfred. Soft tan skin, sun-streaked dishwater blonde. Long nose and straight teeth. Lovely smile. Yes, he had made a good decision. Alfred was devastatingly handsome. Whenever he graduated law school, he'd take the attorney world by storm. No one would be able to keep their eyes off this newcomer in court.

Well, Alfred had a devastatingly handsome face. Arthur had yet to discover if… other parts of him were also so satisfactory. Making up his mind, Arthur pushed forward and began to kiss Alfred. Insistently.

Alfred woke with a jolt, before relaxing and kissing back. His soft, sweet touches became something else under Arthur's force. When Arthur pulled away, Alfred laughed flightily, "Give me a chance to breathe, won't you? Geez."

"Hot at the collar," Arthur responded lazily, moving his kisses to Alfred's neck. His nose brushed the vein and he could feel Alfred's heartbeat accelerating.

"C-calm down." Alfred said. "I'm fine. But you are obviously— hgnnh."

Alfred's words got away from him when Arthur sat up in his lap. It pleased Arthur to realize, judging by the tightness of Alfred's trousers, that Alfred was already so eager to share the bed with him upstairs. Perhaps he had underestimated his abilities. He hadn't had a real partner in such a long time. This could be fun.

"Arthur…" Alfred breathed cautiously, looking attractively disheveled. He caught Arthur's gaze, biting his lip. "Are you sure?"

The sunlight lit Alfred's eyes a lighter blue, brought out the highlights in his hair, glinted in his teeth. They said that with daylight you'd regret a rash sexual partner from the night before. But all the sun did for Arthur was drive him crazy. Alfred looked even better to him today than he did yesterday. As he leaned forward, circling his arms around Alfred's waist, pushing Alfred's mouth open with his own, he thought to himself that this trend might just continue. Maybe Alfred would look better and better every day that Arthur saw him.

And that would be okay. You know, he was okay with that.

Alfred's large hands cupped at his shoulders, but he allowed Arthur to lead. It was the most exercise Arthur had had in so many months, and he was out of breath faster than he would have liked. Alfred grinned devilishly when he broke their kiss. "Bedroom? I mean, I love your hardass couch but it's giving me scoliosis."

"Don't whine," Arthur gasped, jerking Alfred's tie from around his neck. His fingers were shaking too much to get the buttons of Alfred's shirt undone. And he cursed himself for losing his composure so quickly. It had been a very long time since he'd been in this position. Even if Alfred was young, Alfred was still very much out of his league. It didn't help that the real reason he wanted to sleep with Alfred had very little to do with his handsome grin or gorgeous eyes. Much more to do with his sweetness, his concern, his compassion, his understanding. It was hard to make a shallow affair out of that.

And then there was that pressure. Because maybe this was a terrible idea. Arthur didn't want to make a shallow affair _of himself_. It was all well and good to play lawyer and to order Alfred to his knees. He was used to being in charge, but when was the last time he'd slept with someone he liked?

Arthur jumped when Alfred grabbed his wrists, steadying his shaking fingers with a lopsided smile.

"I promise I'm not an alien, Arthur." He said solemnly. "Or a robot. If you remove my shirt, you will see the skin of a human man. Or…" He laughed, his nose wrinkling. "Something close."

Behind the smile, there was a hopeful warmth to Alfred's eyes. He had an incredible talent for putting people at ease. It would come in handy with the clients someday.

"I don't think I would care either way at this point," Arthur admitted and then scowled, his ears going bright red.

"Good." Alfred's hands found Arthur's tie, jerked it over his head. "Because you're driving me crazy and I already know I'm going to like what I'll see."

"Of course," Arthur snorted, giving Alfred's collar a crisp tug. "Now, let's get you proper."

Alfred smirked, shooting forward for a quick peck on the lips. He had Alfred's shirt off with no more delays. His fingers itched for more contact. He couldn't keep them still as he ran them over the contours of Alfred's chest and felt the muscles of Alfred's back. Amazing how different they could feel without clothing.

Alfred grew impatient with his woolgathering and all but ripped his shirt off of him. He laughed breathlessly, thinking that there was no way Alfred would do that if he knew how much the shirt cost. Arthur shivered in the living room air. His trousers were already tight as a knot, and if they wanted to do this in the bedroom, they'd have to leave soon.

Alfred's pupils dilated. His warms hands skimmed over Arthur's sides, dragging him down into another slow, hot, excruciating snog.

"Alfred, Alfred," He breathed as he broke apart, looping his arms around Alfred's neck and tugging.

Alfred knew exactly what he wanted, but he wasn't through kissing. And he repeatedly tried to kiss Arthur while they were going up the stairs. Jabbing the railing into his back, tripping over Alfred's discarded shoes, losing his belt somewhere along the way. He fumbled for his bedroom door, backing into it with Alfred's mouth eclipsing all his brain capacity.

"You have a loft bed?" Alfred broke apart panting. All one side of Arthur's bedroom was floor to ceiling windows, framing a beautiful city skyline. The floor space was magnificent and as Alfred had noticed, his bed was raised.

"Ladder, ladder," Arthur said impatiently, pushing him that way.

Alfred dug his feet in, looking around with his mouth open. "This is so fucking sweet. Oh my god." He ran his finger over the edge of Arthur's dark-wood desk, cluttered with case notes. Just at the base of the ladder to his bed was a fuzzy rug. Alfred made a happy squeaking noise when his bare feet made contact. "That's so soft!"

"Ladder, up." Arthur said irritably. Perhaps they should have stayed downstairs. He had no idea Alfred would get so distracted. The mood from before was fast getting away from him and he was beginning to feel sour about it.

"Woah, this is so high." Alfred peered over the edge of the bed at the floor. His eyes alight like a child's. "You'd break your arm falling from this height."

Arthur sighed over-dramatically, flopping back into his pillows.

"It's like a dream up here." Alfred continued, shaking the whole bed frame as he investigated. "Woah, look at those skylights. That's amazing. Can you see the moon at night?"

The skylights above Arthur's bed were proving annoying. Noonday sun bearing down on them with all its strength. Alfred's eyes glittered and glowed with wonder as he got up on his knees to put his hands on the window and look out.

"I regret my decision to bring you up here," Arthur lamented.

"Hush." Alfred tossed a pillow at his face. "You're acting like I haven't been giving you my full attention all summer."

Arthur only grunted, leaving the pillow in place to block out the damned sun. Maybe he could catch a bit more sleep while Alfred tore the place apart exploring. Strangely, it didn't bother him that Alfred was going around and staring at all of his things. He was a private person, but Alfred had always been different. He refused to admit the small flare of pride in his chest at Alfred's enthusiasm.

"Okay," Alfred said later and removed the pillow from Arthur's face.

Arthur scowled at the onslaught of sunlight.

"I have ascertained that you are the most interesting thing in the room," Alfred said loftily, "And I would like to get back to what we were doing."

"Oh would you like to, your Highness?" Arthur rolled onto his side. "Too bad. Come back later."

"Rude." Alfred chirped. And then, "I guess I'll have to beg."

"And debase yourself so?"

Arthur heard a rustling behind him.

"Just look what you've made me do?" Alfred complained. When Arthur didn't move, he heard the frown in Alfred's voice. "Look!"

"I'm sorry, Your Honor. I just can't be bothered right now."

"Arthur!"

"Nope, it just isn't happening, Your Honor."

He heard the pout in Alfred's voice. "This isn't court, Arthur. Come on."

"Now, imagine that." Arthur laughed in amusement, rolling onto his back to look. Alfred was hovering over him in just his boxers, all hopeful puppy dog, head cocked and everything. "The Honorable Alfred Jones."

Alfred started to scowl, but Arthur reached up, looping his arms around Alfred's neck and kissing him gently.

"I don't want to be a judge," Alfred continued, still scowling.

"But you'd make such a good one," Arthur said, half-joking half-serious. He drew Alfred into another kiss.

"I want to be an attorney," Alfred broke them apart this time, frowning fiercely.

"A defense attorney. Like me." Arthur said and smiled a little bit.

Alfred's expression wavered strangely. "Yes," he said. "An attorney like you." And before Arthur could think about the semantics of it, Alfred brought their lips together again, fiddling with the button of Arthur's trousers.

Soon Arthur was in only his boxers as well, Alfred covering his chest in kisses and playing tantalizingly with his waistband.

"I think you would make a good judge," Arthur said again at the risk of ruining the mood.

"Why?" Alfred laughed in exasperation, pausing to humor him.

"You'd keep everyone playing fair," Arthur said, tipping his chin up to kiss Alfred's nose. "Even me."

"The world's policeman," Alfred joked. "Yeah, that's not happening. How am I supposed to make you play fair?"

"You expect me to tell you and make it easy," Arthur gasped, rubbing his thumbs across Alfred's cheeks. "Alfred, you could do anything in this profession that you wanted to do. A few bumps and hits here and there, but I imagine you'll surprise everybody. I'm betting on you. The Honorable Alfred Jones."

"Arthur…" Alfred paused, his eyebrows coming together earnestly. "Arthur, I-

"Enough talking," Arthur interrupted hastily. He pulled Alfred down by the shoulders. "I've waited long enough."


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello guys! Once again, sorry for the long break between chapters. I feel especially bad, because this story is actually finished except for some edits. (EDIT: THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER. I MEANT: I HAVE ALREADY WRITTEN ALL THE CHAPTERS, BUT THEY STILL NEED TO BE EDITED. People were misunderstanding in the comments...)**

 **If you're still around, hope you enjoy. (And sorry this chapter is such a downer.)**

 **much love, doze**

* * *

Next day at the office, Arthur could not concentrate for the life of him. Knowing that Alfred was sitting so accessible. Just outside his office door. And he needed to concentrate. There was a back log of work on his desk, missed calls, missed messages, missed emails. At this rate, you'd think he'd been away for years.

Marlene had chewed the both of them out as soon as they'd exited the lift together. Saying next time they decided to do an office-wide vacation day they should inform her.

"I've got things I could do," she told Arthur with a finger to his chest. Feeling guilty and irritable because of it, he'd allowed her the day off and now he and Alfred were buried in all his client matters. Last time anybody, period, took a day off around here.

"Arthur?" Alfred knocked on his door and stuck his head in, looking frazzled. "I'm trying to transfer this call to you. Are you going to pick it up?"

"I'm on the phone already, you idiot." Arthur snapped, covering the mic of his mobile with one hand. "Just tell them to wait."

"They've been on hold for fifteen minutes!"

"Grow a thicker skin and tell them I'm busy!"

Alfred scowled in disgust. "Mr. Heighn is in the waiting room."

"Well, he can bloody well wait till Christ comes back. Do you want me to finish this call? Go get out the coffee and biscuits or something. Fucking hell."

Alfred sighed, "Yes, Your Highness."

"Alfred…"

Alfred winced. "Sorry."

The rest of the morning continued much on the same course, with Arthur having no time for anything besides phone calls and breathing. People were furious and grouchy. God forbid their lawyer was out of commission one day. The world would fall apart if they'd had to wait one day longer to consult him. More than half were just whining about their cases. Sometimes being a defense attorney was the equivalent of being an over glorified counselor. Arthur thanked the good lord that he didn't work divorce cases.

He was just wrapping up the last call on his agenda, boatloads of court forms marooning him at his desk. When Alfred knocked lightly, bringing with him the most heavenly scent.

"Brought lunch," Alfred announced cheerfully. "Did you know that Indian place you liked does to-go orders? I used your credit card. I hope you don't mind, but I can't afford a napkin at that place."

"You're a blessing in disguise, Alfred. You really are." He grabbed a pile of papers from his desk and dropped them uncaringly on the floor.

They split the food between them. Alfred had gone overboard with the array, but after a morning like today's, Arthur considered the splurge well worth it. He ate until he was lazy and full and work once again seemed like a bother rather than the thing he lived for. He had eaten at his desk, and Alfred on the couch. Now he watched Alfred work his way contentedly through the last few bites of his curry.

"I suppose that took some awkwardness out of it," Arthur remarked.

"What do you mean?"

"I was wondering how I was going to stand working with you all day, but the busyness left me with no time to remember you were there."

Alfred stuck out his tongue childishly. "Oh ha ha. I didn't forget about you. How could I forget? Slavedriver Arthur Kirkland. _Just grow a thicker skin._ " He mimicked Arthur's accent terribly. "That guy was about to crawl through the phone line and knife me. I know it. He knows where I work, Arthur."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "And if he knifed you, I suppose I would still be his defense attorney at the court case."

Alfred scowled. "You wouldn't."

"I would, indeed. Mr. Galar pays like a prince."

"Well, I would get Francis then," Alfred retorted so quickly that Arthur scowled.

"If you're willing to take the risk."

"What risk?" Alfred smirked.

"Were you not there when I decimated him for Mr. Yoo?"

Alfred shrugged, "You were trying to impress me. You got lucky."

"Oh i-impress you," Arthur sputtered. "I could impress you with a paper bag. Give over, Alfred."

Alfred laughed then, throwing the empty takeaway into the bin and sprawling backwards on Arthur's couch. "I think I'm going to take a nap."

"I think you had better get back to your desk before you regret it."

"I think you should join me."

"I think…" Arthur fell off. He _thought_ that was a wonderful idea, but letting Alfred manipulate him that easily would be bad for business. He couldn't let the boy onto how much power he had.

"I know, I know." Alfred interrupted before he had to say it. He got to his feet with a groan, pausing at the door. "Just one kiss?" He asked mischievously.

Arthur merely raised an eyebrow.

"For the road," Alfred pleaded winsomely.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Only because you asked so nicely." With a grunt, he made it to his feet. Alfred wrapped his arms confidently around Arthur's waist, leaning into him.

Alfred paused before he brought their lips together, genuine warmth sparkling in his eyes. "Thank you for believing in me, Arthur."

Arthur groaned and tried to weasel out, but Alfred's arms only tightened.

"Let me thank you," Alfred insisted. "It'll be sour at first, but it'll get sweet." He smirked suggestively.

Arthur feigned irritation. "Get on with it."

"Thank you, Arthur," Alfred continued, looking downright amused by how uncomfortable this was making him. He couldn't even say why exactly it made him uncomfortable. He just didn't share his feelings. Arthur Kirkland didn't _believe_ in people. He tore them apart in court. This was bound to end in disaster, anyway.

"I know I get on your nerves," Alfred murmured, dropping his chin to the top of Arthur's head. "But you have been extraordinarily patient. I honestly couldn't have asked for a better attorney. And that's not because I think you're undeniably the most attractive person in this office."

Arthur sighed. "You said there was a sweet part to this?"

Alfred pulled back, faking a pout. "You're ridiculous." But then he leaned forward and put their lips together. Like a puzzle piece slipping into place, the kiss made Alfred's thank-you physical and Arthur's heart felt like it was pressing down onto his lungs. He swallowed nervously, searching for a way to put his thoughts into words. Was it too early to ask Alfred to stick around? To really stick around? He didn't know where this was going, but he didn't want it to end.

He opened his mouth, because if he didn't the whole moment would slip away from him. And he might never get it back.

The sudden buzzing of his phone interrupted them, and Alfred groaned good-naturedly. "Duty calls, I guess. God, Arthur, I would be attracted to the busiest man in the universe. Call me when you have the time." Teasing, he pressed a quick kiss to the top of Arthur's head. "I suppose I have email or something to check."

Arthur sighed. "Get back to work, idiot."

0 0 0

Another few hours spent drowning in calls and forms had Arthur dreaming of the end of the work day. He hoped he would be able to convince Alfred to spend the night with him again. This time he would make sure Alfred was awake to see the full moon through the skylight. He was just wrapping up a closing argument for his case later in the week, when a light knock interrupted him.

"Come in."

It was strange of Alfred to enter so quietly. He didn't say anything at all, at first. Settling down on Arthur's couch with a strange expression.

"Francis left a message."

Arthur's lip curled and he returned to typing. "Did he?"

"Yes, he's looking to settle out of court for the Schwabner trial. When you get the chance, he wants to speak with you."

"Hopefully, I won't be getting the chance for a very long time yet," Arthur grumbled under his breath. "Anything else?"

"No, I'm… finished for the day." Alfred frowned. "I'm going to head out."

Arthur's fingers slipped on the keys, but he covered masterfully. Left his mistake. Just kept typing. "Well, I'm about to head out as well. Perhaps we'll walk together."

Alfred bit his lip at Arthur's veiled proposal. "I should get back. My roommate didn't know where I was. I'll see you tomorrow." He left with stiff shoulders, and Arthur wondered, bewildered, if he had done something wrong.

Arthur's walk home was a lonely one. He considered stopping by the bar on 32nd, but part of him just wanted to go home. The flat was overwhelmingly quiet. He made it about two seconds lying in his bed, trying to sleep at a decent time, before he gave it up.

Francis wanted an out of court settlement on the Schwabner trial. Well, there was that to work on. Arthur slipped down the ladder to his desk below the bed. To his right, the city winked coyly, a mass of lights and noises. He fished his usual bottle of whiskey from the drawer, flipped the desk light on and set to work.

He was a third of a bottle deep before the work stopped making sense to him. He was half a bottle deep before he gave it up for bollocks. And he was a full bottle deep when he woke up with his head on the toilet bowl the next morning. Two hours late for work.

He really shouldn't keep alcohol in his bedroom. Like he was just trying to torture himself.

Arthur made it to the office about half an hour later, hiding a pulsing headache and a splotchy bruise. He was all set to walk straight past Marlene without so much as a good morning, but she reached out and touched his arm.

"Mr. Kirkland?"

"Yes?" He hissed through his teeth. There was only one imbecile who could possibly make him feel better right now, and she wasn't it.

"Mr. Bonnefoy is in the waiting area." She hesitated.

"Is that all?"

"He has just been… waiting for awhile. Alfred is in there with him."

"Fucking fantastic," Arthur rolled his eyes, not bothering to watch his language. She gave him an affronted look, and he laughed in exasperation. "This isn't a church, Marlene!"

"When you talk like that, sometimes I think you deserve a fallout," She muttered just loud enough for him to hear as he stormed away.

"Trust me, Marlene," he said to himself as he unlocked his office door. "I couldn't give less than a fuck about what you think."

The last thing he wanted to do was go out and confront Francis Bonnefoy. Couldn't the man have waited at least a couple days? The Schwabner case wasn't for awhile. He couldn't seriously expect Arthur to drop everything just to talk with him. He didn't even have an appointment.

Grumbling to himself, Arthur headed to the waiting room, determined to send Francis packing. To his chagrin, he found Alfred and Francis together sitting on the waiting room couch, engaged in some kind of buoyant discussion.

"The Schwabner case isn't until next week, frog. Did you have to come today?" Arthur asked wearily, collapsing into one of the arm chairs. "I haven't even had the chance to propose it to my client."

"I am afraid that is not the business for which I am here," Francis said brightly.

"In that case, schedule an appointment." Arthur grumbled. "You're not the exception to the rule, Francis."

"And neither, so it seems, are you." Francis raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Jones, would you like to tell Arthur what we have been discussing?"

Arthur blinked, before his features set into a vicious scowl. "Yes, Mr. Jones, I am all ears for what you've been wasting company time discussing with Francis."

Alfred frowned and there was genuine anger in his eyes. Arthur's expression wavered, and he searched for a way to soften his tone.

"Don't worry, Arthur," Alfred said before he could think of anything. "I won't be wasting company time anymore."

"Good. Now what is it you have to say? I want to show you how I draft my statements."

"Riveting."

"Shut up, frog."

"No," Alfred said slowly and Arthur saw his hands clench into fists. Something was wrong. Francis had done something. Francis said something. It didn't take a good listener to realize that Alfred was angry. Francis had—

It dawned on Arthur suddenly and he turned his gaze on the sniveling frog with as much ferocity as he could manage. Francis only shrugged.

"I'm going to work for the DA's office."

"Alfred," Arthur sat up straight in argument mode. "There is nothing at the DA's office that I can't teach you here. It is unnecessary to consider working both places at once. I have impeccable—

"I'm not considering working both places at once."

Arthur hesitated, "Alfred, I'm not sure I know what you mean. Perhaps you want to give this a little more thought. This is a big decision."

"You know what I mean, Arthur," Alfred said in annoyance. "I'm going to work for the DA's office. Only the DA's office."

"Only the DA's office." His mind felt horrifyingly blank. "Why?"

"You lied to me," Alfred said and a hint of bitterness crept into his tone.

Arthur frowned. "I didn't lie to you, Alfred. It just… It…"

"Slipped your mind?" Alfred laughed, hard and grating. "You lied to me, Arthur. You said you were betting on me."

Arthur opened and closed his mouth. He hated having this conversation in front of Francis. The frog had no right to hear this. It was personal. Unfortunately, Alfred saw him looking at Francis and took it the wrong way.

"Wow, that's tremendous, Arthur." Alfred laughed again, getting to his feet. "You won't even admit to believing in me in front of Francis? I guess that means I'm making the right decision."

"Alfred, no," Arthur frowned, shaking his head back and forth. The rejection was beginning to set in. He could feel himself panicking. "Of course, I meant what I said. I am. I—

"You can't even imagine how big a deal this is to me, can you? I get it. You're so far removed. You've reached success, Arthur. But do you know what kind of doors having the DA's office on your resume can do for a young criminal lawyer? If I somehow managed to have both Thompson Lang and the DA on my resume, I could go _anywhere_. But you don't care about that, do you?"

"Alfred, that isn't true," Arthur said quickly. "You can work at the DA's if you want to, and you can work here. I'll figure out the schedule. I just… I wanted you to get the full value of being here. Splitting your time wouldn't have worked so well. You can understand why I didn't tell you."

Alfred shook his head. "No, Arthur. It wasn't your decision. You don't get to decide where I work. Fine. If working both places wouldn't have worked, you could have told me to choose. But I should have been told. I can't believe how arrogant you are! You're not even sorry."

"I'm sorry, Alfred." Arthur said, nearly tripping over his words. "I am sorry. Let's… let's reach a settlement, shall we?" He offered a weak smile, fiddling with the hem of his jacket. "You and I always seem to be talking settlements."

"I don't want to settle, Arthur." Alfred said coldly. "I've already worked here half the summer. I think I've seen everything there is to see." He paused before adding with a heartless snort, "Or at least everything worth seeing."

Arthur swallowed. "Are you… You're sure?"

"One hundred percent. I gave Marlene my termination paperwork." Alfred stood, glancing at Francis. "I'll be in the lobby."

Arthur felt his heart skip a beat. This was it? This was all that became of his infatuation with his summer associate? Alfred was walking out like none of it had happened. All for the fucking DA's office. He turned on Francis furiously. No matter how he tried to hide it, he was angry and his heart was on his sleeve.

"What the hell?" He demanded when he was certain Alfred was out of earshot.

"I merely told him what you didn't." Francis shrugged. "The DA's office made an offer. We're interested in him."

"Oh yeah, right," Arthur sneered, taking a step forward and jabbing Francis in the chest with his finger. "This is just fucking hilarious. You've never swooped in here and stolen my associates before, you bastard. And when I happen to find one I like, you just have to insert your goddamn nose in it. The DA's office has never bothered Thompson Lang about summer associates before. Never. Well, you've gone one step too far. I will make you regret this."

Francis just stared at him for a moment. "Do you know who that kid is?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Alfred, your summer associate. I did my research. Don't kid me."

"What about him?" Arthur asked in frustration.

Francis laughed. "Are you really so out of it? Do you know anything about your summer associates? Alfred Jones goes to Columbia Law School. He's ranked in the top ten of his class, and his parents are both famous prosecutors in the state of California. Alfred has been groomed to be a prosecutor practically since he was born. Why he wanted to work for a defense attorney is beyond me. Unless, he was just casing you." Francis smirked.

"You… Alfred is…" Arthur fell quiet, his thoughts flying ahead of him. How did he not know this? Well, he didn't look at Alfred's papers. He never bothered to look at his associates papers. He didn't care if they came from state school or Ivy league. He was only interested in the person, but at the same time… well, it was negligence on his part. Laziness. He just couldn't be bothered.

But surely it would have come up in conversation. Alfred should have mentioned… But they hadn't really talked much about Alfred, had they? They talked about Arthur. Arthur's work, Arthur's house, Arthur's enemy the DA. What did he know about Alfred? Only that he was a third year law student, that he wanted to work criminal law. The rest was a mystery.

How could… How could he have been so… self-centered? He didn't even ask Alfred what university he attended.

"I see," Francis remarked and then shrugged. "I am sure you will see him in court at the Schwabner case. Never mind about that settlement." He winked, smiling irritatingly before strutting away.

0 0 0

There were two things Arthur did immediately and one he did after some consideration. First, he researched Alfred Jones and educated himself. Unfortunately, it was just as Francis had said. Alfred attended Columbia, and he was incredibly bright.

Alfred was a child prodigy in high school mock court. As far as local newspapers were concerned, Alfred had never lost a case. There were pictures of him with his parents. A man with strikingly similar glasses and a woman with replica 100 watt smile. Alfred stood between the two of them holding a plaque and giving the camera a peace sign.

As a high schooler, Alfred had been chubbier. Boyish and bubbly, judging by the picture. Arthur almost couldn't believe this was taken when Alfred was 18.

He found out that Alfred had majored in Political Science and Drama, of all things. He reigned as the king of mock court in college as well. A graduate of UCLA, a tan and all the perks of beachside living. From an article on Washington Post, Arthur found out that Alfred had taken time off between college and law school. Time which he had dedicated to helping his cousin start a restaurant in LA.

Arthur found articles that Alfred had written for the Columbia Law Review on juvenile delinquency and other criminal justice topics. Alfred was in panels and Alfred was in clubs. It almost seemed to Arthur that there was nothing Alfred hadn't done. In an interview for Columbia's website, Alfred had been asked what sort of law he wanted to practice.

0 0 0

 _"Criminal law without a doubt," Alfred smiled. "I have never wanted to do anything else."_

 _"And are you with the prosecution or…" I asked._

 _He laughed again. "That remains to be decided, doesn't it? I'm not sure yet. This summer I'm hoping to shadow a defense attorney and find out a bit more. I think they get a bad rap, but without them prosecutors would only be one half of a whole."_

" _Do you feel pressure to follow in your parents' footsteps?"_

" _Honestly? No." Alfred shrugged. "They say I would be a good prosecutor, but I think it would be terrible fun to face my parents in court as a defense attorney. We always joke about it."_

 _0 0 0_

Arthur read until his eyes were dry and itchy, then he leaned back with a mighty sigh. So Alfred was as good as Francis said. There was a real loss on his part. Chances are Alfred would be somebody in the legal world.

Refusing to think about the implications of what happened, Arthur moved onto the second thing. He searched Alfred's name in the firm directory and scrawled down the accompanying number. He would call Alfred later. See if they couldn't work this out. He was an attorney. Sometimes all it took was a little tenacity, but he wasn't hopeful.

After spending about an hour just staring at nothing, Arthur gave the day up for bollocks. He wasn't getting anything done. His concentration was shot. It was depressing to be the only one in the office, Alfred and Marlene gone.

The bar on 32nd received Arthur's business again. Heavily.

The reality of it all was beginning to set in. Alfred had left. Left for the DAs. Discarded their experience together like it was worthless. He had been foolish to assume that his attention meant anything to Alfred. It was all just a game. For good or for ill, Arthur was a fabulously wealthy defense attorney with reputation. Alfred could say all he wanted that he didn't care about salary, but that didn't make it true.

The bartender sent him another double whiskey with a frown. "Where's your buddy?"

Arthur resented the question, but he found himself answering. No one else was going to ask. "Working somewhere else now."

"Ah, I'm sorry, man."

"I'm not all that surprised. It was… kind of my fault, anyhow."

The bartender whistled, giving him a half-hearted smile. "Must have been pretty bad to drive that man away."

Arthur shrugged, feeling surly. The bartender had no right to be judging him on matters of conscience. "I think he overreacted, but it doesn't matter what I think. It's never mattered what I think. Client's guilty, I'll defend them. Client's innocent, I'll defend them. Same scenario over and over again. I don't know why I bother."

The bartender appeared to regret asking, as Arthur was only getting started on his rant.

"And you know, I hope he becomes a prosecutor. Just so I can show him how I got my reputation." He abruptly lost patience, tossing a handful of bills on the counter.

"Mister, wait, I can't let you leave like that. Let me call the cabbie."

"I'm not even drunk," Arthur said angrily. "I… I'm not even…"

Down with his dignity and all that, because he ended up with his ass in a cab and as soon as he got out, he puked on his loafers. As he searched for his keys in his pocket, his fingers brushed a slip of paper. In the dim light of the street lamp, he made out the number he had written down for Alfred earlier.

He laughed, crumpled it in his fist, and tossed it away.

And that was the last year Arthur Kirkland hosted summer associates.


End file.
